In Little Droplets
by RunningBrooke
Summary: Small one-shots written from a random one-word prompt - Draco/Ginny, among other pairings. Rated T for language.
1. Hold

**A/N:** Hello! It's certainly been a while.

I've decided to take a break from long stories and focus on short ones instead (no need to point out the fact that I've mostly done short stuff anyway). I'm terrible at continuing stories and feel as if I just need to write. So, these strange prompts. How these work: I basically open the dictionary to a random page, place my finger on a random word, and write based on that. No word limit for myself - hate those - it's just to get a little creative juices flowing without getting stuck on a longer piece of writing. I'll try to do one per day (probably end up doing one per week or something,) but we'll see. D/G, of course. Maybe a few other pairings as well.

 **Blanket Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, own nothing in the Harry Potter universe (if I did, I wouldn't be writing here, would I?) I'll only do this in the first chapter - don't want to type it again.

 **Prompt #1:** 7/9/17

 _586 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Holding the littlest Weasel was purely accidental, of course. How was he supposed to predict that she was going to run head-on into him? And what was she doing in front of the entrance to his common room?

"What the hell are you doing here, Weasley?" He carefully disentangled himself from her and stepped back. Her reckless dash had pushed him back a few paces, but he quickly made up for that distance, boxing her in against the nearest wall. She avoided his eyes at all costs, glancing up, and then down. Anywhere but him. He repeated himself. "What are you doing here?" She finally met his eyes.

"N-nothing." She made a valiant effort to keep the tremor out of her voice, but failed miserably. His eyes narrowed.

"Nothing doesn't merit running into a prefect - in the dungeons, to boot." He noticed the tears slipping down her freckled cheeks, spattering against the stone floor, and grimaced. He hated dealing with crying females. "Look." He backed up, scratching the back of his head and forcing a sneer on his pointy features. "It's almost after curfew, and I can dock points if I want." More tears. Dammit. He had a thing with making girls cry more than they already were. "So make yourself scarce." Finally, he saw a faint glimmer of the infamous Weasley temper.

"No! I came down here to do something, and I'm not leaving till I do!" She glared up at him angrily, despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Draco sighed irritably.

"Get lost, Weasel."

"Stuff it, Ferret." They fell into an awkward stand-still, each glaring at the other and neither willing to back down. This new development allowed Draco more time to think. What in Merlin's pants was he supposed to do with this Weasley? He couldn't escort her back to her own common room, that was for sure. She wouldn't go without a fight, and he didn't want to imagine what the noble Gryffindors would do, seeing him dragging their darling princess along. He snorted unconsciously, earning a suspicious glare from Weasley. He was more than willing to take one of them up in a duel, but so close to curfew? Not a chance. He didn't want his badge stripped anymore than Granger did.

His musings were interrupted by someone rounding the corner, slightly out of breath. His head whipped around, temporarily forgetting about Weasley.

"Weasley, where in Merlin's bloody beard have you been? I've been searching all over - " Pansy Parkinson's dark brown eyes met Draco's and she abruptly stopped in her tracks.

"Pansy?" Draco's incredulous voice echoed in the small corridor. She sent him a glare worthy of his Aunt Bellatrix.

"Why in the world are you wasting time antagonizing Weasley?" She started forward, reaching towards her and pulling her away. Draco raised an impeccable eyebrow.

"Why do you care?" His question fell to deaf ears, however, as Pansy led Weasley away - her arm draped around her shoulders, whispering something in her ear. The other eyebrow quickly joined the first. Well, this is interesting. He knew there was no use pursuing the unlikely pair - he knew how crossing Pansy would turn out - so he re-entered the common room, forgetting completely about whatever he had set out to do.

As he started up the steps to his dorm, he froze, nearly colliding with Blaise. Only then did he realize Weasley and Pansy were, in some strange, impossible way, friends.

Of course, it didn't help that he had enjoyed holding her, either.


	2. Mad

**A/N:** I don't like this one much...ah well.

 **Prompt #2:** 7/10/17

 _355 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Mad was one word he could absolutely, without a doubt, use to define Weasley. Barking mad, she was. He watched her as she skipped into the Great Hall, slightly late to breakfast that morning. She was attentively listening to Potter as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table - laughing and playfully socking him on the arm. He just happen to run into her later, arm in arm with that Loony what's-her-name, hiding from something that sounded like a wronkle sprout. Not that he'd been listening to their conversation.

Of course, he just _had_ to encounter the strange enigma that was Ginerva Weasley (yes, contrary to popular belief, he _did_ know her name) during 7th year charms as well. _Why did she have to be so bloody smart?_ he wondered, idly twirling his quill in between his fingers. She was in too many of his classes for him to feel comfortable - potions, transfiguration, and herbology to boot. He sighed. He would probably run into her later anyway.

 _Her madness is spreading,_ he mused that night at the library. His conveniently chosen spot allowed him a clear view of the Weasley girl and another girl, whom he didn't pay attention to. He frowned. _What Gryffindor_ laughs _while doing potions homework? Especially an essay?_ Because Weasley was definitely laughing. She had a strange, slightly captivating way of doing so - throwing her head back and erupting into a peal of giggles that subsided gradually - it was positively _maddening._ See? More mad.

He'd sometimes see her up on the Astronomy tower, lying on her back and staring at the stars. In _his_ place, no less. The first time he did, he wanted to step out of the shadows, to chase her out of his hiding spot. But she was smiling, in her strange, maddening way, and he couldn't. So he watched her till dawn.

He had carefully gathered all the evidence - her strange walks around the lake at dusk, her reckless flying instincts, her tinkling laugh…

He could _not_ get her out of his head, and soon came to the unfortunate but inevitable conclusion that he was mad, too.


	3. Hue

**A/N:** Slightly late, but here you go! Not especially related to the prompt, but ah well.

 **Prompt #3:** 7/11/17

 _347 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginerva Weasley was not like her brothers. Well, at least not like the Weasel in Draco's year. He didn't really know about the other twenty-three. She was just different. And that's what made her interesting.

He noticed her when her bright red hair whipped him in the face during breakfast - a decidedly unpleasant wake-up call.

Ah, who was he kidding? It was pleasant, to say the least. Her hair smelled like cinnamon - _like her freckles,_ he thought distractedly. The sun reflected off the crimson strands, gold highlights appearing every-so-often. The color was beautiful (although he would rather die than admit it), its brilliant hue standing out among the crowd. It was soft too, almost gliding against his cheek as she walked by. She threw a cheeky grin over her shoulder, as if knowing what he was thinking.

He plastered a sneer on to his face, staring at Weasley's retreating back. Had to keep up appearances, after all. Pansy, who was sitting next to him, was looking at her too.

"Bint," she muttered, although not unkindly. Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "What?" she snapped defensively. Draco sighed, shaking his head.

"Nothing." His eyes were drawn once again to Weasley's hair, which was now taunting him as she sat at the Gryffindor table. _Come and get me,_ it seemed to say. _If you dare._

"Not yet," he muttered darkly. "Not yet." He forced himself to concentrate on his food once more.

* * *

"ARGHHHH!" He exploded for the third time that day as Weasley's hair insisted on making brief, torturous contact with his face. He whirled around in his seat, nearly knocking his books off the table in the process. Another grin. "Ta, ferret!"

He did _not_ just notice how her shapely behind swayed with her hair.

"Ughhhh…" He buried his head in his arms, which currently resided on the library table. He was growing soft - ogling at a _Weasley_! It was positively mortifying. There were so many other shapely behinds in the castle - why her?

He had no idea, but it definitely had something to do with the hair.


	4. Comrade

**A/N:** This one doesn't have much D/G interaction, but I wanted to expand a bit on Pansy's relationship with Ginny. More in the next chapter (I hope).

 **Prompt #4:** 7/12/17

 _404 words, according to Google docs._

Comrade was the last thing Ginny Weasley would have used to described Pansy Parkinson. If you told her a month ago that she would be friends with Pansy, she would have cursed you within an inch of your life and booked you a room in St. Mungos. Now? Not so much.

Of course, if you asked her about it, she would blame it all on the Slytherin Queen herself.

* * *

"Watch it, Parkinson!" Ginny snarled, barely missing the other girl's expensive leather bag as she passed by. Pansy's nose - less pug-like than Ginny had remembered in past years - turned farther up as she look at her.

"Watch yourself, Weasley." She had a sneer on her face - _Was that_ every _Slytherin's go-to expression?_ Ginny wondered - and swung her bag out of reach of her adversary.

Ginny took one more look at Pansy's sneering, contemptuous face, and burst into tears.

She wasn't one normally prone to tears - she couldn't remember the last time she'd cried at Hogwarts. But her day had been the absolute worst - she woke up with a pounding headache, had gotten detention from Snape by helping Neville out with his potion when she was already done, ran into the infuriating Draco Malfoy, and got _another_ detention from Snape for "picking a fight" in the hallways. On top of all that, Harry had yelled at her during quidditch practice for being distracted and rude to her fellow chasers, and had threatened to bench her during the next match against Slytherin.

In other words, she was pissed. And currently crying in front of Parkinson.

"Weasley?" Her head snapped up, ready to fly at any jibe or insult the sneering girl might throw at her.

"What?" she snapped, angrily wiping at her eyes. Pansy, who was a few inches taller than Ginny, bent down slightly and looked closer at Ginny's face.

"You're _crying,_ Weasley?" she asked, bemused.

"I'm not," Ginny muttered. Pansy barked out a laugh.

"Totally." There was silence for an awkward moment. Pansy broke it by speaking up again. "Well, since I'm in a good mood, I think I'll take you to the kitchens for some chocolate." At Ginny's incredulous look, Pansy shrugged. "It's what Draco did when I was crying." Too tired to care about going to the kitchens after curfew, or who she was with, for that matter, Ginny let Pansy drag her along to the kitchens.

It was all Pansy's fault, really.


	5. Excuses

**A/N:** Don't like this one either.

 **Prompt #5:** 7/13/17

 _384 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"He's staring at you, you know." Luna's dreamy voice penetrated Ginny's cluttered thoughts, bringing her back to the present as they sat in Charms.

"Who?" Ginny shook her head briefly before looking up and following Luna's gaze. She groaned, dropping her head to its original position in her arms. "Oh, great. Not him again." Luna smiled patiently.

"He's a Malfoy," she said. "He always gets what he wants in the end." Ginny's head shot up again - she winced as her neck cracked slightly.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply. Luna shrugged, giving one of her half-smiles.

"Whatever you want it to mean, I guess." Shaking her head at her friend's vagueness, Ginny settled for glancing at Malfoy occasionally through the corner of her eye. He was _not_ staring. At least, that's what she told herself.

* * *

As she and Luna exited the classroom, Ginny put a hand on the Ravenclaw's arm. "I've got a couple things to say to that ferrety brat over there - make sure Ron doesn't come looking for me, okay?" Luna nodded, a knowing twinkle in her eye, and continued on her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Spinning around, Ginny huffed as she saw the target of her ire leaning casually against the wall next to her, smirking slightly. So much for taking him by surprise.

"Why - " she thrust a finger at his face - "were you staring at me during class?" Noticing their extreme height differences, she tried to make herself appear taller, tilting her chin imperiously and glaring at him. He lifted an infuriating eyebrow.

"What would you do if I told you I was staring at the interesting piece of dust on the wall above your right shoulder?" Ginny shook her head, tut-tutting slightly.

"Excuses, excuses." Malfoy's smirk broadened.

"Your friend Loony was making ugly faces at me the entire time?" he offered.

"Are you even trying to think?"

"I happen to find Flitwick's wall decorations fascinating?"

"That was a pathetic excuse for an excuse, Malfoy."

"What if I said you're extremely attractive when you're angry?" Ginny started to roll her eyes again when his words actually sunk in.

"I - what?"

"You heard me."

Ginny, deciding the conversation had _not_ gone as she had originally planned, fled the scene.


	6. Paper Cut

**A/N:** The prompt is two words. Whoops.

 **Prompt #6:** 7/14/17

 _421 words, according to Grammarly._

* * *

Ginny had been studiously ignoring Draco Malfoy for the past two days - dodging him in the hallways, entering and exiting the Great Hall right behind the Golden Trio (she had to admit, _that_ was slightly pathetic,) and generally being extremely skittish in the corridors.

"What's _wrong_ with you, Gin?" Ron looked at her, concerned. Ginny felt a rush of gratitude towards her older brother, who was only trying to help, but she shook her head.

"Nothing much, really." Hermione still looked skeptical, but Ron let it go.

* * *

Ginny took a risky visit to the library to complete her potions homework that afternoon with Luna.

"Ginny," Luna had said as they sat down at their customary table, "Be careful about Wrackspurts right about now." She gazed at her friend with unusual clarity in her large, dreamy eyes. "They like to prey on troubled people."

"I will, Luna." She pulled out a roll of parchment, a book, and quill, and began spreading out her supplies in front of her. As she plunged her hand into her bag for a bottle of ink, she felt a sharp spike of pain through her pinky finger.

"Bloody hell -" she cursed, quickly withdrawing her hand and glaring at the small bead of blood welling from the cut. Luna glanced over.

"Paper cut?" Ginny nodded, hissing as she inserted the offending finger into her mouth. Grabbing a tissue to wipe off her finger, she returned to her work, sticking out her cut finger as she wrote with the quill.

"Trying to imitate the elite, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind a bookshelf, smirking in his own infuriating way. Ginny jumped, accidentally splattering her half-written essay with ink.

"Malfoy!" she spat, hastily throwing down her quill (spilling more ink in the process) and standing up, nearly knocking over her chair. Malfoy leaned casually against the bookshelf.

"Yes. I'm amazed that your limited brain capacity managed to recognize me at last." Ginny let out a snarl, thrusting her belongings back into her bag.

"I am _not_ having this conversation with you right now, Malfoy," she snapped, swinging the bag over her shoulder and pulling Luna up beside her. "C'mon, Luna. We're leaving." She stormed out of the library, Madam Pince's angry threats following her to the door. Luna, who had paused at the edge of the table, turned to the blond Slytherin.

"Don't worry, Draco," she said amicably. "She'll come around." And with a wink, she exited the library after Ginny.


	7. Dessert

**A/N:** I enjoyed writing this one :)

 **Prompt #7:** 7/15/17

 _344 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Breakfast in the Great Hall was an interesting affair that morning. Ginny - oblivious as always to the attention bestowed upon her by the majority of the male population of Hogwarts - sat blithely at the Gryffindor table, eating a muffin. Her brother on the other hand, who had been increasingly aware of the situation, had begun the unfortunate habit of glaring at every single boy who happened to glance at his sister.

"DEAN -" He tried to launch himself over the table at the other boy, but Hermione, without even glancing up from her book, fastened the back of Ron's robe with a practiced grip and pulled him down grimly. Dean only grinned slightly at his antics, waving cheekily.

Causing the older Weasley's face to turn an ugly puce that Uncle Vernon would have been proud of.

Ginny turned to her older brother, a frown gracing her elf-like features.

"Ron, must you make such a big deal out of nothing?"

"NOTHING?" he bellowed.

"Ronald," Hermione warned, finally looking up from her book. Ron slouched in his seat, sulking slightly. Ginny, of course, returned to her muffin.

She had fallen in love with blueberry muffins in her second year - for some strange reason, eating them helped relieve the nightmares that plagued her sleep every night. She slowly swirled the tip of her tongue around the top of the muffin, closing her eyes momentarily as the sprinkled sugar loosened and entered her mouth. A second lick got rid of the remaining sugar, and she smiled slightly as she then took a satisfying bite out of the top of the muffin. A collective groan could be heard in the Great Hall, many cringing in their seats and quickly turning their gazes away.

A slow grin widened on Ginny's face as she quickly demolished the rest of the muffin, then reached for another.

 _Maybe she wasn't so oblivious after all,_ Draco Malfoy mused from the other side of the hall. Contemplating the blueberry muffins on the table in front of him, he pocketed one. It would come in handy later.


	8. Bully

**A/N:** Eh. I've decided not to make these in the same universe - exploring is more fun. This one is kind of not…the characters behave slightly differently. But I don't like it much. Ah well.

 **Prompt #8:** 7/16/17

 _220 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Well, if it isn't a sniveling, little bratty Gryffindor first year." Ginny's ears perked immediately (to the casual observer, she could have been likened to a feline) and, touching her prefect's badge reassuringly, she rounded the corner, ready to bring to justice any unfortunate victim in sight.

" _Malfoy?_ " She skidded to a halt as soon as she laid eyes on the Slytherin, noticing the cowing first year a split second later.

"Yes, that is my name, Weasley." He sneered at her, somehow keeping the first year against the wall at the same time. He waited, an expression of patronizing patience on his aristocratic face. "Now, would you mind? I have more important things to do than stick around talking to the littlest Weasel." Ginny's temper flared at once, and, taking a threatening step forward, she pointed a slender finger at his chest.

"You think you're so scary," she seethed, "growing up to be _daddy's_ boy and terrorizing muggles and half-bloods. But you know what?" She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. "You're nothing but a mumbling, two-faced coward."

She ignored the dangerous flash in his steely grey eyes, opting to turn her attention to the first year, who was still against the wall.

"C'mon," she said, completely ignoring the fuming Slytherin behind her. "Let's get you out of here."


	9. Photograph

**A/N:** Slightly longer than usual. Maybe turn this into a slightly longer one-shot later?

 **Prompt #9:** 7/17/17

 _460 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Malfoy, I swear you're going to get it some day!" Ginny Weasley furiously thrust her finger at the Slytherin, her fury mounting with every smirk on Malfoy's flawless face.

"Get what, Weasley?" She fought not to blush as he looked her up and down appraisingly. "Not much here, as far as I'm concerned."

"You ferret - impossible - UGH!" She gave in to the urge to stomp her foot and did so with great gusto, narrowly missing Malfoy's foot several times.

Of course, his only response was a raised eyebrow. And a step closer in her direction.

Suddenly apprehensive, Ginny took a cautious step back.

"Scared of the big, bad Slytherin, Weaslette?" Another step.

"N-no." Her stutter gave her away. She attempted another step back, but was halted by a wall conveniently (for Malfoy, _not_ for her) positioned behind her.

"Oh, really?" Step. Arms. His _arms_ (which, in fact, she did _not_ just notice were very fine indeed - well-muscled and pale) boxed her in against the wall and he leaned forward, his mouth brushing the sensitive shell of one ear.

"W-what are you doing, Malfoy?"

He let out a sound not unlike a purr. "Making sure you never pull something like that again."

 _FLASH._

Ginny froze, unable to turn her head and look at the scene she knew was behind her. Malfoy, however, whipped his head around and, although Ginny couldn't see his expression, she could guess what he looked like.

" _Creevy._ "

"Oh, dear," Ginny murmured, finally wiggling out from between the taller boy's body and the wall.

"Oi, Gin! Look at this! It almost looks like he's - " Colin cut himself off abruptly as he finally noticed the Slytherin glaring at him. "Oh." He turned to look at Ginny again.

She was glaring too. "Oh."

He began backing up slowly, his camera swinging from his neck and his eyes widening at the sight of the two furious people in front of him.

"Um… I'll just be going now…."

"Oh, no you won't." Malfoy's voice was dark, his fists clenching by his sides as he took a threatening step forward. "Give me that camera. _Now._ " Colin clutched at the camera around his neck, his head shaking in silent refusal.

"Colin." Ginny's voice, although slightly less terrifying, was still taut with restrained anger. "Give up the camera."

He finally spoke up. "B-but I n-need this for the n-newspaper," he stammered in a high, nervous voice. Ginny and Draco both whipped their heads around to stare at each other.

" _Newspaper?_ "

Colin used that moment to escape behind a tapestry they had unwittingly backed him up against.

Draco and Ginny were _not_ pleased.


	10. Wall

**A/N:** Short and not much D/G interaction. Ah well.

 **Prompt #10:** 7/18/17

 _234 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Stupid - ignorant - annoying - idiotic - Weasel - " With every word, Draco's fist made contact with the dungeon wall outside the Slytherin common room. He ignored the blood dripping from his knuckles and opted to continue his ferocious attack on the stones instead. How _dare_ that impudent little Gryffindor insult him, then _laugh_ at him in front of everyone? And why had he stood there like an idiot, mouth slightly agape, as she did so?

It wasn't every day that people got to see the Slytherin king speechless - in fact, no other person besides his close friends could render him that way. So why was the littlest Weasley able to? He hadn't really paid attention to her before, but over the summer, she seemed to have grown a backbone - standing up to both him and other Slytherin students as well.

He glared at the wall.

"Stupid Weasel."

"Geez, Malfoy, what did that wall ever do to you?" Blaise walked by casually, his hands stuck in his pockets, grinning like he knew something Draco didn't. _As if._

"Everything," Draco said petulantly, glaring at the wall with child-like anger. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right, Draco." He walked on, giving a little wave over his shoulder as he went. "See you later." He paused, as if remembering something. "Oh, and Draco?"

"What?"

"You might want to get that hand checked." Blaise fled the room, Draco's well-aimed hex on his tail.


	11. Thunder

**A/N:** I dunno - but I liked this one. Longer, too.

 **Prompt #11:** 7/19/17

 _461 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

A baby was born in a thunderstorm - a baby with red fuzz on her head, large hazelnut eyes, and a wide smile. As lightning flashed outside, she stretched her arms out to the light, starting to cry as her worn-out mother pulled her close to her bosom. But she was soon placated - a baby can't pay attention to one thing for more than a minute, after all.

A small, red-headed girl, no older than five, laughed as she twirled out in the wet streets of Diagon Alley. Rain beat down on the cobblestones and thunder crashed up above. Her face was turned up to face the relentless water, but she was quickly dragged under an awning by her mother. A blond, pointy-faced boy watched from inside an apothecary shop, wishing he could play in the rain too.

A child, wearing a hand-me-down sweater and shorts, danced outside her lopsided house under the occasional flashing of lightning and onslaught of rain. Her bare feet squelched deliciously in mud puddles, and she let her brilliant red hair fly out of its customary braid as the rain fell harder. Hair plastered to her head, she wondered why it couldn't thunder more often.

At Hogwarts, the ceiling of the Great Hall predicted thunderstorms outside. While everyone moaned about flying in the rain for Quidditch practice, a girl sitting at the Gryffindor table grinned, tossing her head at the students that thought she was crazy. Including the ferret-faced one on the other side of the hall.

As a young witch, she loved to go outside when it stormed. Forget work, forget responsibilities - the thunder called. The lake near her flat always churned up a storm, and she would sit on a bench nearby, watching the water with fascination. Of course, she was always too engrossed in that to notice the blond man under the dark green umbrella on the opposite shore of the lake, staring at her through the rain.

As a grown woman, she knew that dancing in the rain was immature, at least according to others. But when no one was around, in the middle of the night, she would sneak out of her house and splash in puddles - clothes soaked, legs plastered with mud, and lightning sometimes illuminating the bright red of her hair. She was sometimes joined by a blond man who tolerated the rain - for her.

In a quaint cottage by the woods, an old woman walked slowly outside, her husband by her side. The rain would come pouring down, and as the first clap of thunder sounded, she would laugh, letting go of her husband's hand and spreading her arms. She always felt younger when it rained. The old man smiled - an action now well-practiced - and spread his arms, too.


	12. Taken

**A/N:** Meh. Don't like it much.

 **Prompt #12:** 7/20/17

 _333 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginny frowned, annoyed. The library was packed to the brim that afternoon - seventh-year students were furiously studying for NEWTS and fifth years of the OWLS. So when she noticed that the only empty seat was next to Draco Malfoy, she hissed in irritation. She desperately needed to go over star patterns for astronomy, and the book she wanted couldn't be taken out of the library.

"So," she said, thinking aloud, "I guess it's Malfoy, now." Several students next to her gave her strange looks, but she ignored them - opting instead to head over to the empty seat.

As she sat down with slight apprehension, the tall blond beside her looked up from his homework, a sneer marring his flawless face.

"This seat's taken, Weasel," he spat, placing his quill down and glaring at the offending red-head. Ginny shrugged.

"Too bad," she quipped, taking out a scroll of parchment and her own quill. His scowl deepened.

"Weasley - if you can't understand simple English, I suppose I'll have to break it down for you." His tone lowered angrily. "This - seat - is - taken. That means someone else is supposed to sit here."

"Me?" Ginny widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Why, thank you! Just what I needed to study." Malfoy growled.

"Not funny, Weasley." She smiled back.

"Not supposed to be, _Malfoy._ " Turning her back on him, she began fishing through her bag for an ink pot. There was a pregnant pause.

"Get lost, Weasel."

Suddenly finding herself trapped against the bookshelf behind her seat, Ginny awkwardly angled her head to see the irate Slytherin better. He was pinning her to the shelf, brows creased in anger. She tilted her chin up to look him square in the eyes.

"I'm not leaving until your imaginary friend comes back, Malfoy. I hope you know that." Her eyes widened as Malfoy leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Two can play that game, Weasel." As she shivered at his ominous words, he released her and stalked out of the library.


	13. Fire

**A/N:** Almost didn't finish this one tonight. Just came back from camp.

 **Prompt #13:** 7/21/17

 _224 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

She was fiery, more than anything else. Spirit flashed in her eyes every time she spoke - flames flickering at the edge of her vision. Her red curls glimmered under the sun, and her freckles seemed like hot ashes still falling down from above.

He loved watching her play Quidditch - her hair whipping out behind her, her bright brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she chased after the quaffle. She was always alive when on a broom.

She looked even more like fire, though, when Madame Pomfrey gave her pepper-up potion for her cold. Smoke was constantly pouring out of her ears, and, underneath all that red hair, it looked like her head was on fire. Draco and his goons had made fun of her then. It was fun to see her all riled up and steaming, especially now when she was all grown up. Quite nicely, too.

He had developed the unfortunate habit of staring for hours on end at the fire in the Slytherin fireplace, brooding quietly. Blaise knew what was going on, of course. He would purposely nudge his friend as they passed the Gryffindor in the hallways, maneuver Draco closer to the redhead during class (who knows how many advanced courses she was taking), and was generally a nuisance to all. Secretly, though, Draco was pleased. He enjoyed playing with fire.


	14. Chance

**A/N:** I almost didn't do this one either - I'm traveling to NYC tonight and would come back at two in the morning. So I picked up an old drabble I wrote before I joined and edited it a bit.

 **Prompt #14:** 7/22/17

 _314 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"No. I have to do this. _I have to do this!"_ His voice rose in shrill desperation. "You don't understand." A sob caught in his throat, fighting to escape. "You never did. My - my parents will die if I fail." He looked down, away from the wavering hand that held the wand, away from the old man's twinkling eyes.

Memories flashed through his vision like shards of glass spilling, broken, across the ground. A gentle laugh - one of few in his starved childhood, overheard in Diagonally when passing the youngest Weasley. The glint of white-blond hair that he saw just before another fist came in contact with his face. The blood pooling around his mother's limp body as he peeked, terrified, around the door as his father beat her. The cold, high laugh of the Dark Lord, followed by a flash of green.

"Wh-what are you doing to me?" he choked, fighting to get away from the images.

"Nothing, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, his voice low. "Nothing at all."

Silence filled the night, punctured only by the occasional dry sob and heavy sigh.

"I could help you, you know. _We_ could help you." Dumbledore finally spoke. "You could protect your family, Draco. Your mother."

"My - my mother?" The old headmaster smiled wearily.

"Yes, Draco." He paused, as if pondering. Then he tilted his head. "However, I do believe that we will be having company very soon." He gestured towards the door.

"Sir?" Dumbledore fixed him with a stern stare, and he lowered his eyes - his automatic respect for teachers had not gone away.

"You know what I'm talking about, Draco. So, what will it be?" An agonized pause.

Draco stiffened his resolve.

"Where will we go now?" he asked, sheathing his wand. Dumbledore smiled, held out a hand, and let out a soft sigh.

Draco would not rejoin the dark lord that night.


	15. Saint

**A/N:** So sorry for the lateness! I will be posting two today - to make up for yesterdays. I was rafting in the Poconos for the entire day.

 **Prompt #15:** 7/23/17

 _232 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

He was no saint - that much was obvious. As Ginny brushed back his white-blond hair from his forehead, she traced the scar running through his eyebrow and into his temple. She knew where he had gotten that one. His eyes flickered open and Ginny saw years of torture, abuse, and loneliness within the dark grey depths. He was no innocent, either.

His breath caught as Ginny's hands wandered leisurely down his neck, pausing at his collarbone to touch yet another scar. A gift from his manic father. She pressed a gentle kiss to it, splaying her hands against his lean stomach.

Next came his chest. The scar from the _Sectumsempra_ Harry had given him was still there - an angry, puckered line that would not go.

 _Harry._ When she'd heard what he'd done, she couldn't believe it, even if Draco was a Slytherin. _Saint-Potter,_ Draco had sneered. _That's what everyone thinks he is, isn't it? Well, he's not._ Ginny had to agree with the petulant blond.

Satisfied with her search, Ginny straightened and tangled her hands in his hair, kissing first one eyelid, then the other. It helped with nightmares, she'd discovered, and she didn't want to be disturbed any more than he did. Finally, she placed a chaste kiss on his firm lips, but before she could pull away, he deepened it.

He was no saint, but then again, no one was.


	16. Sinner

**A/N:** Here's my second one today. The prompt matches the previous one, because why not? Slightly similar, I guess. Probably from when they were younger, though. Hmmm. These are getting shorter and shorter - I should increase the length. Alright, enough babbling. Here you go...

 **Prompt #16:** 7/24/17

 _259 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

 _Is it a sin to love a boy as bad as Draco Malfoy?_ Ginny wondered idly, letting out a moan as Draco did wonderful things to her neck. Her thoughts were interrupted as he moved slightly lower, licking her collarbone and pressing another kiss to her jaw.

"Oh - " she gasped, gripping his shoulders harder. _It certainly felt like a sin._ She fought the urge to give in to his ministrations and tried to form another coherent thought. _Her family certainly would think it was a sin. And his family. And -_

"Ginevra?" His voice rumbled at the back of his throat as he looked up at her through mussed hair and dark lashes.

"Y-yes?"

"Pay attention, darling." He returned to her neck. _Pay attention. That wasn't sinning, was it? Well,_ she thought, _it really depended on how much a person knew -_

"Draco!" His eyes flicked up to meet her brown ones.

"Yes, dear?" His fingers traced fingers around one breast. She pouted, mind failing to ignore the sensations shooting through her body at his touch.

"I trying to _think,_ Draco!" He purred.

"I'm sure there are better things to do than _think,_ Gin."

"Of course," she grumbled, pushing him off of her and straightening from her previous position against the wall. "But," she added, slightly louder, "I have to do it anyway." Grumbling, Draco folded his arms and looked elegantly put-out.

 _It certainly was a sin to look that beautiful,_ Ginny thought. _In fact, it should be illegal. That,_ she confirmed, _was definitely a sin._

She just wasn't sure about the rest.


	17. Friends

**A/N:** WOW. More than 500 words this time - I'm surprised. I might come back and edit it, though. Not the best writing.

 **Prompt #17:** 7/25/17

 _517 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Ughhhh…" Ginny dragged herself through the doorway of Draco's flat, flopping onto the couch and casting her hand dramatically over her forehead. Draco looked up from his lasagna, smirking slightly.

"Tired, love?"

"You think?" She groaned, tossing her quidditch bag half-heartedly at the blond. She missed. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I had yet to see the day Ginerva Weasley was unable to hit the great Draco Malfoy with anything."

"Shut up, you great prat." The other eyebrow joined its companion.

"Nothing more creative?" He tut-tutted, rising gracefully from his chair and sitting beside her immobile body. She suddenly felt incredibly dirty and awkward - she made an effort to sit up, but only succeeded in getting more mud on the couch.

"Whoops." Her tone was apologetic, and Draco waved it away - cleaning the fabric in the process.

"They overwork you way too much during practice," he said, noting a scrape on the redhead's cheek. "Of course -" he tossed in a teasing glance - "you need it, at the rate you're cleaning out my fridge."

"Ferret." He ignored the jibe, tapping her wound gently with his wand. He wrinkled his nose.

"Go take a shower, Weasley." He pocketed his wand, standing back up and returning to the table. "You'll feel much better afterward." It was Ginny's turn to feel bemused.

"In _your_ shower?" Draco looked up.

"Well, it's the only shower near here, isn't it?" Ginny sighed, nodding.

"Alright. Save me some dinner." She picked up her bag and trudged towards the bathroom, careful not to get too much mud on the carpet. Entering the elegantly furnished bathroom, she stripped quickly - not caring for once that a certain Slytherin was just outside the door in the kitchen - and stepped into the shower, letting hot water loosen her aching muscles. He was right - quidditch practice was terribly exhausting, and she hadn't had a break for ages.

It only took her a few minutes in the shower before she stepped out, reaching automatically for the towel closest to her. Her fingers brushed the 'M' monogrammed on the corner and she froze momentarily, but continued all the same. What other option was there?

Leisurely drying herself, she let her eyes wander around the bathroom - taking in the clean white tiles, neat rows of toilet paper, and toothbrushes - _toothbrushes?_ What conceited brat needed two toothbrushes? A sinking feeling accompanied the deep disappointment in her belly.

"Draco?" she called out hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Why do you have two toothbrushes?" She could almost envision his casual shrug.

"For the occasional visitor who drops by." She could hear his smirk. "I hate french kissing with morning breath."

She didn't respond.

Letting out a whoosh of air, she sat down against the wall, suddenly more tired than she had been before. She kept forgetting that Draco, however much he liked hanging out with Ginny - _he did like it, didn't he? -_ was England's most eligible bachelor three years running and thoroughly enjoyed female company.

That is, female company that wasn't Ginny's. She sighed, standing up and hanging the towel back up.

She kept forgetting that he was just her friend.


	18. Wind

**A/N:** Hehehe. I've been going back to some of my earlier ones and realizing how sloppy and thoroughly un-betaed they are. Therefore, I'm editing some of them. Here's today's, though. Not exactly how I wanted it to turn out, but ah well.

 **Prompt #18:** 7/26/17

 _475 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Ginerva." His voice was smooth, deep, and riveting, as usual. Ginny refused to turn around.

"What is it, Malfoy?" A low, amused chuckle.

"So it's Malfoy, again?" She didn't respond. A sigh came from behind her, and she turned around, her back facing the castle.

"Why are you constantly following me?" she demanded, pushing up the brim of her wide hat - a gift from Charlie - to meet his stormy eyes. Draco shrugged with a casual elegance only born in high society.

"I don't know," he said in blunt honesty, gazing steadily back at her.

"Draco, you know it wouldn't have worked out." She gestured wildly at herself, the Slytherin, and somewhere in between. "You know it wouldn't have. You're a Slytherin, I'm a Gryffindor, and…." He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Are those the best excuses you can come up with, Ginny?" She lowered her eyes, not replying. "I thought so." He stepped forward, hands outstretched, for once deserting his Malfoy pride. "I think this can work, Ginny, I really do. Those last few months..." He paused, a grimace briefly marring his delicate features.

"Stop." Ginny's voice was strangled, her eyes wide and wild. "Please, stop." _Please, stop giving me more chances. Please._

Draco took another step. His robe billowed out behind him - a response to the gusty wind buffeting both of them.

"Ginny." His voice was pleading. She shook her head furiously, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"No!" she shouted, taking a step back. "Stop it, Draco Malfoy! I want nothing to do with you - I made that very clear the day we broke up. So stop trying to get it back!" Her last words turned into a wail and she turned her back to him once more, tears spilling freely from her freckled cheeks.

"You ruined it once, Ginny. Don't ruin it again." His voice was even - calm, and reasonable. She hated it. Steeling herself, she let loose the words she'd promised not to utter again.

"I don't know you, Draco Malfoy," she spat, forcing a sneer onto her face. "All you ever wanted was to follow your dear old papa and get that _horrid_ mark on your arm and -"

 _Smack._ Draco had closed the remaining gap between them and slapped her. Ginny's head had turned with the force of his blow and she let out a startled gasp, more from the shock than the pain. But she wasn't surprised. Not really. She deserved it.

He whirled around, two spots of pink high on his cheek bones, and left towards the castle. Ginny's hand came up of its own accord and touched her smarting cheek gently. She did deserve it.

A particularly violent gust of wind swept by, taking Ginny's hat with it. She watched it disappear over the nearest hill, but made no effort to stop it.


	19. Resurface

**A/N:** Alright. This one was slightly confusing. Even I didn't get it.

 **Prompt #19:** 7/27/17

 _479 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

He was drowning - drowning in a sea of screaming bodies, waves of blood, and hours upon hours of regret. Tumbling head over heels, he reached out blindly - hands crashing into the painful memories that _would not go away._ Thrusting his wounded arm to his chest, he tried to avoid them as much as he could, but they just kept coming, sneering at him with their hateful eyes and laughing in that high pitched laughter that always frightened him. Closing his eyes made no difference at all, either - he could see them no matter what.

 _Which way is the surface?_ he wondered, nearly blinded by hazy panic as his mind tried to sort everything into their respective bins - _Father, you go into that one. No, that one. Please, just go! NO - you've got them all mixed up - stop ruining the order!_ His mind was a whirlwind of confusing thoughts, emotions, and ideas, and try as he might, he could not use Dumbledore's clever system of bins and lids to hide them away.

 _Red._ He could see the color, shining brightly momentarily among the raw echoes of despair and pain before it disappeared again - _are you drowning, like me?_ He tried to reach out to the color but only managed to bump into another memory buried deep in his mind - and it was gone. _NO! Please don't go and leave me all alone! Come back!_

He crashed into something hard and was tossed in the other direction - a helpless pawn in the roaring waters that was his mind. He needed something to anchor onto - something familiar. But he was choking now, the stench of rot and decay overwhelming his senses and bile filling his mouth. He needed _air._

 _Red?_ He saw it again. The color seemed to rejuvenate him, sending energy coursing through his veins. He had to get to it. Casting aside memories in his hasty search, he plunged his hands into the chaotic depths and encountered something soft, pliant, and yet incredibly firm and comforting. _Red._

"Ginny?" he whispered. He couldn't see anymore - his senses were too saturated to do so - but he could feel her, warm and solid. He pulled himself towards her and wrapped his body around hers, burying his nose in her red, _red_ hair _._

Suddenly, he felt himself rising, fighting against the onslaught of battering emotions and thoughts. He tucked Ginny closer to him, gripping onto her with all his strength as he struggled to open his eyes. And then they resurfaced, both gasping and clinging onto each other for dear life.

"Ginny?" He spoke for real this time, shaking his plastered hair from his forehead and desperately feeling his companion for a pulse, a breath, _anything._ Her eyes slowly opened - clear hazel sparkling in the dark water. They were wondering, filled with pain and suffering, but awed just the same.

"Draco?"

He was safe.


	20. Winter

**A/N:** Eh. This one was okay, I guess.

 **Prompt #20:** 7/28/17

 _545 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginny tossed her scarlet hair over her shoulder as she took a running leap into a snow drift.

"Draco!" she called, her voice slightly muffled by the snow. "Stop being such a grinch and come over here!"

"A grinch? What's that?" The older Slytherin was seated delicately on the steps, lifting his nose disdainfully at the white powder. Ginny's red head popped out of the pile.

"It's a muggle thing," she said dismissively, shaking snow from her face. "Now come _here_ , you conceited prat!" Draco feigned a wounded pout.

"Still not above throwing childish insults at me, Weasley?"

"No, _Malfoy_." She grinned, a glint of something that Draco didn't quite like appearing in her eyes. "And I'm not above throwing other things at you, either."

Before she'd finished the sentence, her arm swung out from behind her and she let fly a snowball - _there's a reason she's the best chaser in Gryffindor,_ Draco thought idly - and it hit his aristocratic nose with a wet thump.

"ARGHH!" He jumped up as if a fire had been lit beneath his pants, furiously wiping snow off his face and dusting it off his robes. His slate-grey eyes met Ginny's, anger sparking in their icy depths - of course, Ginny was unfazed. She winked cheekily, waving him off with a slight waggle of her fingers.

"Come here and get me!" Too enraged to mind the snow coating his soaking robes, he complied quickly, leaping off the steps and striding towards the giggling redhead.

"You'll regret the day you were born, Weasley," he hissed menacingly. Then he blinked. Where had she gone? She was just standing in front of him a moment ag-

"Timber!" he heard somewhere above his head before his hearing was rudely interrupted by an avalanche of falling snow.

When he had cleared most of the snow from his now-ruined hair, he looked wildly around, ready to pin that annoying redheaded weasel to a tree and - do what? _Snog her?_

"This is not happening," he moaned, clutching at his dripping hair and sinking to the ground. "Why me, of all people?" He heard a muffled thump in front of him, and, deducing that it was Ginny, stubbornly refused to lift his head.

"Draco," she said cajolingly, stepping closer.

 _Must not think about Weasley must not think about Weasley must not think about Weasley._

"Draco?" Was that _concern_ in her voice?

 _She's your best friend, mate,_ a voice piped up helpfully in his head.

"I know that already, you idiot!"

 _You can't snog your best friend, can you?_

"I know I can't!"

"Um, Draco?" He felt a warm palm on his forehead and instantly reacted, snapping his head back and glaring at Ginny.

"What?" he growled.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

 _Don't tell her that, you twit,_ the voice in his head advised him.

"Stop telling me what to do!" He finally blew up, jumping to his feet and causing Ginny to hastily back up several paces.

"Me?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"No," he snapped again, clutching at his head and shaking it angrily.

 _Kiss her, stupid._

"No!"

 _You know you want to…_

"NO!"

 _You won't regret it…_

A pause.

"Oh, bloody Merlin's balls." He straightened, buried his fingers in the girl's vibrant red locks, and kissed her.


	21. Cruel

**A/N:** I like this one for some strange reason. It's longer than usual, too. And apologies for writing this one a day late - I'll post two today to make up for it. You see, it's this interesting disease called procrastination…

 **Prompt #21:** 7/29/17

 _588 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Splashes of blood stained the otherwise pristine walls of the master bedroom in Malfoy Manor; the bed sheets were ripped, a few chairs overturned, and an overwhelming stench of pain, sex, and death prevailed in the hooded room.

"Hello, Ginerva." The dark, silky voice wrapped around Ginny's mind, seeming to pull her further into the room.

"Draco." Her voice was soft - resigned.

"Miss me?" She snorted.

"Hardly." Turning, she began to straighten a misplaced chair.

"Don't." She could hear the contemptuous sneer in his voice. "The house elves will take care of it."

"I don't mind," she said steadily, not turning away from the chair. A softly muttered spell shot out from behind her and she resisted the urge to flinch, instead casting a soft _protego_ behind her to ward it off. Her shield had worked, so she knew her husband had let it. For now.

"Ginerva, darling." His voice carried a hint of warning.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Let go of that chair." Shivers tingled down her spine as his chilling tone. She turned around to face him, but didn't let go of the chair.

"No, _Draco,_ " she said, her voice steely. "I will clean up this mess, and I will _not_ let the house elves take care of it." She knew what his mood was like when he cheated on her, and that he might let small acts of rebellion slip by, too. She turned back to the chair, fixed it, and stepped towards the next one.

"Very well, love," he drawled. She heard him retreat a few steps - _That was strange. He didn't usually back down so quickly. What happened today?_ \- and forced herself not to look back at her husband. Trailing her fingers across the soft velvet of a chair arm, she took a steadying breath - but it caught in her throat as she heard a high-pitched giggle behind her. Stamping down the impulse to whirl around and see whatever her husband was doing, she turned slowly.

The girl her husband had brought home this time was blond, leggy, voluptuous, and aristocratic - everything Ginny was not.

"Draco!" the girly voice continued, a tiny titter interrupting her speech like a hiccup. "What's the _maid_ doing in our bedroom?"

 _Maid?_

"She's simply…cleaning, darling." Draco pressed a light kiss to the side of the woman's jaw, earning a throaty moan. "You know how _moody_ I was before you came."

 _Cleaning?_

"Well?" the bint demanded, pouting prettily. "Tell her to go away so we can engage in more -" she paused - "pleasurable activities." Turning her back on the irate redhead, she slowly ran her tongue along Draco's neck - _she was nearly as tall as Draco was,_ Ginny noticed - and reached his lips, kissing him deeply.

Ginny let out a shudder of disgust and fury - her husband had never tried anything like _this_ before. She knew he had cheated on her in the past - she assumed it was simply a tradition followed by every Malfoy heir - but _this?_

Draco raised his hooded grey eyes and they met Ginny's - dark, lustful, and glinting in their own vengeful, demented way.

He was too cruel.

Ginny slowly let go of the chair - she'd gouged five furrows in the dark green fabric without realizing it - and stepped away.

"I'll be in the library, darling," she said, her voice unwavering despite the roiling emotions inside her.

"I don't care, _darling,_ " her husband returned coolly, kissing another spot along the other woman's throat. "I have better things to do than to join _you._ "

He was just too cruel.


	22. Uncle

**A/N:** Here's my second one today - whoops. It's also a lot happier than the last one.

 **Prompt #22:** 7/30/17

 _486 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Uncle Dwaco?" The tall blond turned towards his niece, who pouted, reaching out her arms to him.

"Yes, Victoire?"

"Can you carry me?" Repressing a smile, Draco picked up the small girl, placing her gently on his shoulders. Her silvery blond locks mixed with his own similar hair and she giggled, tugging on a few strands.

"I always wanted hair like Aunt Ginny's," she said conversationally, returning her chubby hand to her own hair and frowning. "Hers is so colorful. And it looks awfully nice with yours, Uncle." Choking back a laugh, Draco spun his niece around, plucking her off his shoulders and holding her in front of him.

"Your aunt's hair, hm?" Blowing gently on her face - something she hadn't stopped liking even as she passed her toddler years - he plastered a serious expression on his face and began tickling the six-year-old. Once the smile returned to her face, he said, "I think your hair is quite lovely, too." Her frown returned.

"But Aunt Ginny's is just so…alive, Uncle. 'S much more interesting than my hair."

"So you're saying my hair isn't interesting?" He faked a hurt expression and Victoire giggled.

"Yeah." She wiggled out of his grasp and hopped onto the table, swinging her legs casually - she knew how much her mother hated that.

"Being a bad influence on the children, Draco?" He turned to see Ginny leaning against the doorframe, a smile playing on her lips. Victoire leaped up and into her aunt's arms - Ginny bracing herself against the doorway before catching her. "Hey, Vicky."

"Hi, Auntie." She looked at her aunt, her face calculating. _Uh oh._

"Vicky, darling -"

"Auntie?" she asked, her voice deceptively sweet. "When am I going to have more cousins?" Ginny blanched, nearly dropping her niece.

"More cousins?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky. "Why, I'm sure your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are planning on having a few more children, and -"

"No, Auntie." She pouted. "I mean I want pink-haired cousins."

"You mean like Teddy?" Her pout deepened.

"Auntie!" she cried, burying her face in Ginny's shoulder. "You know what I mean!" Ginny exchanged a half-exasperated, half-amused expression over the head of silvery hair with her boyfriend.

"Well, darling, first Draco and I have to get married, and then we can think about babies."

"Why?" she asked petulantly. "I like pink hair." Ginny grimaced.

"It's only proper, Vicky."

"Humph." Victoire pointed at the ground and Ginny let her down, slightly relieved. She and Draco watched as the child padded away into the living room to join her parents. Draco moved first.

"So," he murmured, "about these children Victoire requested…" He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend's waist, placing a line of kisses along her neck and jawline.

"Draco," she protested weakly, but as he pulled her up the stairs, her complaints disappeared.

Victoire would have her wish in a few short years. Pink hair or not.


	23. Happy

**A/N:** This prompt was quite simple to write for. It didn't come out quite as I wanted it to though… ah well.

 **Prompt #23:** 7/31/17

 _333 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

 _It was strange to be this happy,_ Draco mused as he watched a certain redheaded girl nimbly ascending a tree near the greenhouses. As she tossed a teasing look back at him, his traitorous lips curved up into a smile and he could not squash the urge to join her.

"Hello, Draco," she said as he reached her branch. "Fancy seeing _you_ up here. I thought you said climbing trees was plebeian."

"Changed my mind," Draco murmured, leaning over to snog her senseless. She didn't mind, after all.

 _ooo_

As Potter cast the curse that would end the Great Battle of Hogwarts, Draco could not remember feeling happier. His mother wrapped her arms around him and he finally allowed himself to relax. His eyes were instinctively drawn to the vibrant red across the Great Hall and he breathed yet another sigh of relief as he saw that Ginny had made it through the fight.

"Mother," he whispered, pulling away slightly. "Can I have a moment?"

"Of course, darling."

And when his own arms wrapped around the sobbing girl that was the love of his life, he thought maybe this happiness business wasn't so bad, after all.

 _ooo_

He was happy as he stood outside room 216 in St. Mungo's - frightened out of his wits, yes, but unbelievably and irrevocably happy. He couldn't even help the smirk that spread over his lips as yet another Weasley brother glared at him - _how many of them were there, anyway?_

"This is all your fault, you know," Ron muttered as he passed. Draco's smirk widened.

"Yes, I do know," he whispered gleefully, earning a blanch and a look of disgust from the other man.

"Mr. Malfoy?" His head snapped up and he completely forgot about all the Weasleys - well, all except one of them.

"Yes?"

"Your wife is ready to see you."

As he held his firstborn in one arm with his wife wrapped up in the other, he decided that happiness was something he could get used to.


	24. Stalker

**A/N:** This one was okay. Not exactly how I hoped.

 **Prompt #24:** 8/1/17

 _505 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

He whirled around for the fourth time that evening, narrowing his eyes at the dark shadows hugging the walls of the dungeons. Nothing moved. Groaning in frustration, he raked his hands through his hair and stalked on, his footsteps the only sound in the corridor - _but wait. There it was again._ A faint rustling sound traveled through the air. The sound of being followed.

Draco knew he was being unreasonably jumpy after his father popped a surprise visit to his dorm a week before, but he couldn't help it. Casting around one final glare, he marched off, determined not to turn around again.

Which is why, of course, he did so a mere five seconds later.

His breath caught in his throat as he noticed a glint of something in the darkening shadows - _hair? A weapon?_ \- his stalker was getting more daring.

That's it. He'd had enough.

"Who are you?" he demanded, drawing his wand and taking a defensive stance. More rustling. He could now make out a dim shape in the shadows - small and decidedly feminine - _Pansy? No, it couldn't be. She was taller than that, certainly…_

The girl stepped out from her position near the wall.

" _Weasley?_ "

"Hello, Malfoy." She calmly pocketed her wand, tucked a roll of parchment in after it, and smiled at him. Draco blinked, silent in a rare moment of confusion.

"W-Weasley?" he finally managed. Her smile widened.

"Yes, that's me."

He sputtered on for a few moments, then said, "Were you _stalking_ me?"

"Yes." Her voice was completely steady and unwavering, which intrigued him - it wasn't every day that he met a girl who didn't immediately melt in a puddle at his feet.

"And that's all you have to say?" he drawled, recovering quickly and quirking an eyebrow. The girl smirked.

"Yes." _Wait - she smirked?_ That was _his_ thing!

He couldn't help notice that she was good at it too. _Had she learned that from Pansy?_

Now that he thought about it, he'd seen them around the castle together a lot - pouring over books in the library, taking walks on the grounds, and working together during class. That was strange. He made a mental note to interrogate Pansy about it as soon as possible.

"Why?" he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral and uninterested.

"Because I find you fascinating." She said this with no fanfare or embarrassment - only blunt honesty. _Interesting._

"Has the littlest Weasley been spying on the big bad, Slytherin?" She exhibited the first sign of emotion other than amusement then - a faint flush spreading across her cheeks.

"So what if I have?"

"Then I'd say you were rather impulsive, foolish, inquisitive, and have good taste." It took a few moments for the last part to sink in, and she gaped slightly.

"Um, thanks?" He smirked.

"No problem, Weasley." He straightened, tucked his wand into his pocket, and gave a slight nod. "See you around."

He left her standing there, a sly grin slowly spreading across her features and a second plan forming in her mind.


	25. Wednesday

**A/N:** Eh. This one was okay, I guess.

 **Prompt #25:** 8/2/17

 _416 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginny's favorite day of the week was Wednesday - no questions asked. Everything enjoyable happened to be on a Wednesday - her birthday fell on one that year, Quality Quidditch Supplies always had sales that day, and she had double Potions with Ravenclaw (Potions was by far her best and favorite subject).

But most importantly, she had patrol Wednesday night with a certain platinum-blond.

 _ooo_

"Wake up, darling!" Olivia chucked a pillow at her sleeping friend who sat bolt upright, missing the pillow by a centimeter.

"I am, Liv." She yawned, rubbing her eyes and stretching before collapsing on her sheets once more.

"Ginny!" The pillow Olivia threw this time did not miss - hitting Ginny squarely on the nose.

"Olivia!" The redhead sat up again, her hair in wild disarray on her head, and a frown forming on her lips.

"Do you know what day it is?" Olivia asked as she hopped off her bed to look for a pair of matching socks.

"I dunno. Why? You know - " Ginny straightened suddenly, her eyes wide. "Liv! Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Spurred into action, Olivia watched helplessly as her friend of three years tore around the dorm room. Every single Wednesday had been like this since Ginny had been given her prefect's badge.

Ginny hustled her friend to breakfast, dragged her through all her morning classes, and landed with a satisfied _plop_ at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

"Today is a _wonderful_ day," she sighed gustily, digging into her mince pie. Olivia could only roll her eyes.

Next was Potions. Ginny gave a bright "Good afternoon!" to Professor Snape, who scowled darkly at her. She was unruffled, however, and eagerly began the assignment on the board.

As Snape made his rounds among the sweating students, he swept past her without a word - she smiled. She'd brewed the potion correctly, then.

 _ooo_

"Someone's in a good mood." The amused voice drifted past her ear, a pair of arms wrapping around her middle from behind. She leaned back, closing her eyes briefly.

"Hello to you, too, Draco." Turning, she pressed her lips to his before stepping back, a wicked grin on her face. "We'd better get to our rounds, then."

"Witch."

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me."

"Prat." She smiled charmingly, starting down the hallway at a brisk pace.

"Now hurry up, Draco. Don't want Hermione nagging at us because we didn't catch all the trouble-makers!" Her boyfriend pouted at her departing back.

"Tease."

Ginny loved Wednesdays.


	26. Conspiracy

**A/N:** Oh dear. This one was long. Not that well written, but long. Tee hee.

 **Prompt #26:** 8/3/17

 _1370 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Hello, Ginny!" Pansy chirped brightly as she passed. Ginny nodded absently before noticing with a start that it had been _Pansy_ who had greeted her. _Pansy_ who had seemed oddly cheerful this morning. She whirled around only to find Pansy's expensive black robes swishing past the corner - _Snape's been teaching the Slytherins his ways,_ Ginny thought wryly - and she dismissed Pansy's performance as a fluke.

Whistling absently as she entered the Great Hall, she didn't notice the excited whispers between Luna and Ron that abruptly muted when she sat down, nor the fact that Luna, however friendly with the Gryffindors, was seated at the wrong table. Something that professors would normally look down upon, but something that the professors seemed to be ignoring today.

"Hello, Luna," she said as she bit into a crumpet.

"Hey, Ginny." She missed the conspiratorial gleam in her friend's normally dreamy eyes as she finished her hurried meal, voting to spend the rest of her breakfast in the library reading up on exotic potions ingredients.

During Transfiguration that morning, Professor McGonagall had to reprimand her usually bright student twice - "Honestly, Miss Weasley, how do you expect to keep up your grades in my class if you don't pay attention?" - and Ginny had to try three times before she could successfully transform her chair into a dog and back again.

The alarm bells finally began ringing when a firm shove from someone in the hallway ran her straight into Draco Malfoy - prat extraordinaire and annoying-bugger-who-wouldn't-leave-her-alone.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Ginny spat, looking around furtively in an attempt to identify the shover.

"I do believe it was you, Weasley, who ran into me and not the other way around." She ignored the annoyingly smug look on his face, finally turning her eyes upwards - _he was just so much taller than she was, godammit -_ and glaring at him.

"Logic," she snapped, turning away and pushing her way through the crowd. "Something I do _not_ have the time to worry about right now!"

She most certainly did not have time to notice or worry about the slightly crestfallen expression on the Slytherin's face.

 _ooo_

"Hey, Draco," Blaise said casually, throwing an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Don't be so sad mate. You won't have to worry about her after tomorrow's Hogsmeade visit." Draco's shoulders tensed.

"Why not?" he asked tersely.

"I heard she got a date," Blaise whispered, making a big deal of looking around to check that others weren't listening in. "Just as friends, she says, but one can never be too certain…." He sauntered off, feeling immensely satisfied with his part of the scheme. Operation get-annoying-stubborn-brats-together had begun.

 _ooo_

"Hey, Ginny!" Colin tucked his arm around his friend's waist, grinning as she rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Hey, Colin. Why the good mood?"

"Oh, I dunno." His grin widened - he could feel the eyes of a certain annoying blond Slytherin trained on him and Ginny. He tightened his grip on her waist. "Maybe because I'm going on a date with my bestest friend?"

"Do be a dear, Colin, and shut up." His laughter mingled with the general excitement of an upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

Luna situated herself with Blaise in a secluded booth across from the one Ginny and Colin were in - the willowy girl exchanging a wink with Colin before Madame Rosmerta bustled over to take their orders. So far, everything was set up perfectly. Blaise confirmed that Draco was currently brooding in Honeydukes before slipping into the booth, giving Luna a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Here comes the dragon himself," Blaise murmured, before leaning over the table and kissing Luna more thoroughly. Luna muttered something against his lips. "What was that?" Blaise pulled away slightly, pouting.

"I said, is Pansy in position?"

"Yes, love." He returned to kissing her.

Meanwhile, in the booth occupied by Ginny and Colin, Ginny was having the strangest sensation of something happening that she was not aware of.

"Colin?" she asked, peering closely at her friend. "Why, exactly, are we going on this date?" Colin's eyes widened in faux hurt.

"Why Ginny!" he proclaimed loudly to the entire café. "I've had a crush on you for the _longest_ time and I wanted to go out on an official date with you - " He was abruptly cut off as a hand shot out to grab Colin by the shoulder. Ginny's eyes traced the slim hand to a very imposing, _very_ intimidating Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, Creevey," Draco said scathingly, glaring at the younger boy. "I hope you wouldn't mind if I talked to _my_ girlfriend for a moment."

"Of course not, Malfoy," Colin returned coolly - although this was all part of the plan, he still wasn't very happy about the way Draco had interrupted their conversation.

Ginny, meanwhile, was looking from Colin to Draco, confusion etched on her features. "Colin? Wha - "

"C'mon, Ginny." Draco practically dragged her out of the shop - Ginny was still too surprised by his declaration and his use of her first name to do anything about it. She finally came to her senses when they had exited the shop and quickly dug in her heels, shaking off the blond and glaring at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, tugging a hand through her curls. "I do _not_ appreciate your treatment of Colin, I am _not_ your girlfriend, and I wasn't aware that you even knew my first name!"

Of course, Draco was too preoccupied with staring at her full, pouty lips to form any semblance of a coherent thought or response.

"What?" he asked intelligently after Ginny jabbed him in the arm, hard.

"I asked, you prat, what in the _world_ you were thinking back there! Do you realize that everyone thinks that we're a _couple_?"

She took a steadying breath, which promptly caught in her throat as Draco said, "Would that assumption be so bad?"

"What?" she spluttered, her arms flailing. Finally regaining her power of speech, she said, " _Yes,_ it would be bad!"

In the alleyway closest to the arguing pair, Pansy elbowed Ron in the ribs as he growled.

"Weasley," she warned, her eyes narrowing. "You are aware that this was all _your_ idea?"

"Yes," Ron hissed, "but it doesn't mean I have to _like_ it!"

"Shut up."

Ginny was continuing her long rant when Draco, fed up and close to snapping, closed his fist around the front of Ginny's cardigan and pressed his lips to hers in a wild, possessive gesture that left Ginny breathless. Her eyes were wide as saucers when Draco pulled away, still smirking smugly.

"Care to continue?"

"Uh….what?"

They both spun around, however, as a wild exclamation exploded behind them and red and silver sparks began raining down on the street, leaving the faint scent of cinnamon and flowers behind. They both began sputtering at that point.

"Surprise!" Colin shouted, throwing open the door of the café. "Finally, you two got the nerve to snog each other. Took you long enough!" He was followed by a beaming Luna and grumbling Harry, who still wasn't completely satisfied with the pairing.

Ginny realized first, her eyes widening even more.

"Conspiracy!" she shouted, trying to point her fingers at everyone at once. "You - you - you - "

"Very well said, love," Draco drawled, having recovered after Ginny's obvious statement. "Now, can we please get back to snogging?"

"You!" she shouted, pointing at him. "Was this _your,_ plan, too?"

"Nope!" Blaise stepped in, grinning from ear to ear. "Draco was way too infatuated with you to think up anything _this_ clever."

"You - "

Draco shut her up again by kissing her.

When they finally broke apart, Ginny leaning on Draco's chest for support, numerous catcalls rising from the watchful group around them.

"Oh dear," Ginny murmured. "This was all planned, wasn't it?" A laugh rumbled in Draco's throat.

"Yes. Not that I mind." She glared accusingly at her friends, but the effect was ruined by a smile pulling at her lips.

"Try anything like that again…" she threatened.

"We understand," they chorused, smiling angelically.

"Well then," Ginny conceded, "I suppose you can be forgiven." She gave them one last glare before pulling Draco's head down to hers. She rather liked this conspiracy.


	27. Speech

**A/N:** Not the best - I don't like the speech part.

 **Prompt #27:** 8/4/17

 _719 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Thank you for doing this, Malfoy," Ginny whispered as they both stood backstage - the host of that night's ball was finishing up his welcome speech. "It really means a lot to me and my dad." Draco shrugged, his eyes trained on the gap in the curtain he would be traveling through in a few minutes.

"I don't mind. It's the least I could do." Ginny frowned, puzzled at his last words, but the host had bid the crowd farewell and exited the stage. Draco stepped out to face the crowd, and Ginny slipped through the side door behind the curtain and made her way into the audience.

"Hey, Gin," Ron whispered as she sat next to him.

"Hey." She trained her eyes on the podium where the tall blond was now standing - confident, poised, and infinitely charismatic.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." He lifted his head, sweeping his gaze across the crowd before continuing. "First and foremost, I would like to thank the Ministry for funding this gala, and hope this event will further strengthen the magical community facing the aftermath of the Great Battle of Hogwarts." A silence. Ginny glanced around, and, seeing many wizards and witches nodding in agreement, sighed in relief.

"Arse-kissing prat," Ron muttered beside her. Ginny smacked him lightly on the knee but didn't respond. However openly the Weasley family accepted Draco as Ginny's best mate and one of their own, Ron never refrained from insulting him as much as possible.

"Secondly, I want to thank Mrs. Weasley and my mother for playing a huge role in planning this event," Draco continued, smiling at the two women he'd mentioned. Mrs. Weasley blushed furiously, fanning herself with a piece of parchment, while Mrs. Malfoy smiled serenely.

"Oh, he shouldn't," Mrs. Weasley tittered.

"Now, the real reason I am up here tonight: Mr. Arthur Weasley." At his name, the majority of the crowd exploded into cheers. "As you all know, Arthur is running for Minister of Magic and already has multiple major organizations and people supporting him. I am pleased to say that, after this event, I will be one of his supporters as well." His last few words were drowned out by enthusiastic applause. "I cannot think of anyone more qualified for this position."

"Congratulations, Arthur," Kingsley Shacklebolt murmured from his seat next to the Weasley patriarch. "I'm sure you'll do fabulously." He gave a rueful grin. "I'm getting too old for this kind of business."

The rest of the speech was a blur to Ginny - her father mounted the stage, gave a short speech of his own, and she was swept up into the jubilant mood of the audience. She found herself facing Draco Malfoy at the refreshments table, a champagne flute in one hand and the other resting on the white linen tablecloth.

"What did you mean by saying that it was the least you could do?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "It's not as if you're indebted to us or something - " She trailed off as his eyes flashed once.

"I am," he said haltingly, turning towards the table to take a pastry. She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

"I don't think you are," she said, wincing as she heard a childlike whine in her voice. "That is - I mean - well, you're my best mate, and I think that if you had anything to repay us for, you've done it time and time again." She let out a nervous chuckle. "Do you remember when you rescued me from that river we were splashing around in?"

"Yes." His tone was still curt, but slightly softened around the edges.

"I had a cold for _ages,_ " she continued, lifting her eyes to finally look at him. "But I think you're the best mate I've ever had, really." At this embarrassing proclamation, she lowered her eyes, her face burning. "I know you've had tons of friends that are probably much better than me - Merlin knows I mess up a lot - " Her last word hitched in her throat as he touched a gentle finger to her lips, silencing her. He smirked.

"Did Ginny Weasley just admit to being best friends with a Malfoy?"

"Well, yes, I suppose - "

"Thanks, Weasley."

He left her standing there, mouth slightly agape and lips tingling from where he'd touched them.


	28. Pain

**A/N:** WHOOPS. Completely forgot about this one yesterday night - I'm not sure why. Here it is. Will do another one today too. I honestly have no idea what happened here, though.

 **Prompt #28:** 8/5/17

 _731 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Pain was something Draco should be used to by now - after all, he experienced it almost every day. When he was a child, his father beat both him and his mother. Narcissa Malfoy did her best to protect her small son, but she could only do so much. Bad nights usually ended up with his mother, broken and bleeding on the master bedroom floor and Draco himself in the Manor's many dungeons - cracked, bruised, and hopeless. He often wondered how long he would last.

Blaise Zabini was usually the one to rescue him from the dungeons - but whether this was by his father's request or his own will he was never sure. They never said anything to each other - Blaise simply cast the required spells, bandaged any severe wounds, and left the dungeon with the door unlocked. Draco always left ten minutes after.

Pain was what he felt when he was fifteen as he saw his mother on the ground, dead from an over-enthusiastic beating from his father.

Pain for him was always red - the color of blood, suffering, and agony. The color he saw as the Cruciatus curse was cast upon him time and time again. But red was also the color of hair - the scarlet strands that always evaded his grasp - the hair of a commoner. The hair that belonged to Ginny Weasley.

The first time he saw her on the Hogwarts Express, he was still smarting from an early-morning beating from his father.

"Remember me as you hang out with your pitiful friends," he sneered as his cane came crashing down on his son's spine. "Don't you _dare_ go against me or the Dark Lord."

So when he approached the Weaslette and her prat of a brother, he took out his anger on them.

"Look what we've got here," he sneered, leaning against the door of the train compartment. "Weasel, Weaslette, Pott-head, and mudblood. How fitting." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled menacingly behind him.

"Go away, Malfoy." Momentarily shocked into silence, Draco gaped at the youngest Weasley girl, taking in everything - the flaming hair, sparkling brown eyes, and secondhand robes. _Of course._

"Interesting," he said at last, raking his eyes up and down the girl's skinny frame. "Older Weasley, I suggest you look out for your sister in the future. There'll be…a spot of trouble coming her way." He turned, his expensive robes swishing, and left the four people in their compartment - Granger and Pothead restraining the Weasley brother while the Weasley sister looked on quietly.

He saw her a second time - really saw her - in Hogsmeade with the Creevy brat. He hated how she had more than enough boys to keep her company at a crook of her pinky finger, and he hated how Creevy looked at her as if she was the only thing that deserved his attention in that café. She was a _Weasley,_ godammit, and poor to boot.

So why was she so popular?

That was a question he asked himself often - hating himself for finding her so intriguing and hating her for being so.

He felt pain as he was tasked with killing Dumbledore - and if he failed, his parents would be killed. Although his father abused him regularly, Draco - in some strange, demented way - still loved him. He could help it. All children are programmed to love their parents at all costs.

So he had to do it.

Endless hours were spent in the Room of Requirement, working on the Vanishing Cabinet after his last two attempts had failed. Pain stabbed through him as he imagined what would happen to his family if he failed.

But none of this pain was comparable to the pain he felt when he fell in love with Ginny Weasley.

He knew immediately he could never approach her with this confession - he had already had too much contact with the youngest Weasley. His father would become suspicious - he wasn't sure if he already had - and the entire façade he'd kept for so long would crumble. No. He could not. And that was painful enough.

The pain was what helped him through the war - his betrayal of the dark lord, joining the Order, and fighting on a different side in the end.

As he stood at the bottom of the hill, gazing up at the crumpled form at Harry Potter's feet, he figured all that pain was worth it.


	29. Birthday

**A/N:** Geez. These are getting longer and longer. I kinda liked this one, too.

 **Prompt #29:** 8/6/17

 _1137 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Malfoys never celebrated birthdays. Draco was sure that rule was written down somewhere in the large Malfoy Decorum he suspected was hidden deep in the library - he just had to find it. Draco's father thought birthday parties frivolous and a waste of time, while his mother never bothered to remember birthdays at all. As a consequence, he thought they were things to be scorned, too.

Which was why, when all the Weasleys and Potter jumped out of a darkened Burrow on June 5th, 2003 madly waving _Happy Birthday_ banners and releasing balloons, Draco panicked.

"Happy Birthday Draco!" Ginny shouted, raining confetti down from the sky on her broom. She touched down lightly in front of her shocked boyfriend, smiling up at him and dropping her broom. She waited expectantly, but all Draco could do was sputter on like a broken record.

"I - well - um…" Her brows creased in concern and she stepped closer, putting a hand on his forehead.

"Are you alright, Draco?"

He fled.

Draco was a creature of obsessive habit and tradition - he absolutely hated it when things didn't go exactly as planned. He had planned to have a nice, quiet dinner with the Weasleys, cuddle a bit with Ginny, and hopefully

It didn't help that he'd completely forgotten about his birthday, anyway. How had the Weasleys figured it out? He had made sure that not one, not even Ginny, was sure about the date of his birthday.

His feet pounded across the Burrow's lawn - he thanked Merlin he had taken up the habit of running every morning - and as soon as he was outside the wards, he apparated to the first place he could think of.

The light inside Luna's flat was warm and inviting, and he collapsed in a heap on her wooden floor.

"Draco?" she called from the kitchen, glass clinking softly as she set down dishes. "Is that you?" He looked up at the willowy blonde.

"Yeah." He pushed himself up until he was sitting on the carpet, legs crossed and eyes closed. He heard her entering the room.

"They still threw you a birthday party?" she asked sympathetically, drying her hands on a washcloth. "Did you tell them not to?"

"Well...not exactly." He heard his friend sigh.

"If you didn't tell Ginny or her family, how do you expect them not to? You know Molly Weasley - she loves mothering people. Especially you." He heard her sit down next to him, the floor creaking.

"I wasn't thinking," he croaked, the weight of what he had done suddenly crashing down on him. "Oh Merlin, Luna, what have I done?" He buried his head in his knees.

"What have you done?"

"I ran away from all of them," he groaned, not lifting his head. "Ginny must feel terrible - and Molly - " He broke off. "She'll stuff my face silly," he said pitifully. "After ditching her and her cake she'll stuff me 'til I burst."

"You talk as if it's too late to go back, Draco." Her voice was amused.

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all." She smiled as he lifted his head, disbelief etched in every feature. "Do you really think Ginny would turn her back on you just because you ran away from your own birthday party?"

"Well - I always assumed - "

"Never assume things about Ginny," Luna said gravely, sticking her washcloth into her pocket. "That's what Harry did all too often - and look where he ended up." She stood up.

"Wait, Luna." He stood as well, running his hand through his hair distractedly. "You think I could go back?"

"Sure," she replied, walking towards the kitchen again. "Just apparate - the wards are down today."

" _What?_ "

She had disappeared.

Knowing Luna would not come back until she had sufficient reason to, he toyed with his wand, his mind not quite made up yet. Would Ginny understand? She always did - and yet…

He cursed his Malfoy caution. Of course she would. Why wouldn't she? He apparated, appearing right outside the Burrow's wards a moment later. Peering through two trees, he saw Ginny, standing alone in the center of the front yard, staring at the sky. He squinted. She was tense, he could tell - standing ramrod straight with her feet set shoulder-width apart. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out, feeling the familiar tingle of the protective charms woven around the house.

"Gin?"

"Draco?" He approached her cautiously but there was no reason to - she ran towards him and tackled him in a hug, burying her face in his sweater. "I'm so sorry," she murmured into his chest. "I completely forgot about that - you told me once that you hated birthdays - I forgot. I'm so sorry!" Her last words ended in a partial sob and Draco suppressed a relieved sigh - she wasn't angry at him.

"Ginny, it's fine. I forgot to tell your mother - it's not your fault for not remembering." He gently pushed her chin up, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

"You're not mad at me?" she asked in a small voice. He blinked.

" _Mad_ at you? I was the one that ran out on you!" Ginny let out a shaky laugh.

"Thank Merlin - I thought you were going to blow up at me once you came back."

"I would never, Gin." He brushed a kiss across her nose and she smiled, flicking a piece of confetti out of his hair before kissing him back, hard.

"Mum hasn't given up yet, you know," she said conversationally, tugging him towards her home. "She's going to feed you double the cake, now that you ran off first." Although her face wasn't turned towards him, he knew she was grinning.

"How will I ever keep my figure?" he asked in a high falsetto, casting a hand dramatically over his forehead.

"Prat. You have no reason to worry about _your_ figure." She finally tossed him a teasing glance over her shoulder. "However, if you keep feeding me at the rate you're going now, you'll be marrying a fat, pudgy Ginny Weasley soon."

"Of all the horrors," he returned dryly. But as they approached the sideways house, he gulped. A very formidable, _very_ determined Molly Weasley stood in the doorway, a spoon in one hand and an empty plate in the other.

"Draco Malfoy, you will come in at _once_ and eat your cake," she told the blond sternly, ushering them inside and shutting the door behind them. "Running _indeed,_ why, I should make you eat cake for the next month!"

Ginny snickered behind her palm.

"Have fun, Draco darling."

"Oh, don't think you're getting off scotch free, either, Ginerva Weasley." Ginny froze mid-laugh. It was Draco's turn to smirk.

"You're stuck with me, Red."

Molly pushed them together into the kitchen, brandishing her spoon and issuing dire threats to anyone who crossed her path.


	30. Skeleton

**A/N:** Longer and longer. I liked this one more than some of the others.

 **Prompt #30:** 8/7/17

 _774 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Draco? Are you ready yet?" Ginny's voice floated up the stairs of the Burrow, impatient and slightly nervous.

 _Nervous?_

"You're taking longer than I do," she continued, "and I take a long time, I'll admit." Silence. "Well, we're leaving in fifteen minutes. 'Mione's orders."

"Alright," he called back, pulling the last piece of his costume on and glancing critically at the mirror. Ginny retreated from the bottom of the staircase, joining Hermione in the living room. She couldn't help but giggle.

"Ron's going to pitch a fit," she predicted, taking in her friend's costume in one glance. The brown-haired witch was wearing something she called a 'pirate' costume, or something like that. A red bandana embroidered with gold was draped rakishly over her hair and the brown vest she wore hugged her waist and hips tightly. The black tights ending mid-calf would send Ron into a seizure, she was sure of it. Hermione glanced down at herself self-consciously.

"You think so?"

"Definitely." The two women were momentarily distracted as footsteps sounded on the creaky steps - Ginny turned and saw Draco walking down the stairs, running his free hand through his hair.

"Finally, Malfoy." She heard Hermione huff behind her but didn't look back. "Took you long enough." Ginny finally turned, noting absently that the entire Weasley family had filed in, as well as Harry, Luna, and a few of her nieces and nephews. She almost jumped as she felt Draco brush up beside her, his breath warm on her ear.

"Are you _trying_ to attract every male within five kilometers of you?" he inquired, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Ginny looked down at her costume, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"I don't think so," she said, plucking at the flowing red fabric of her dress. "It's not see-through, after all." She heard a slight growl at the back of her boyfriend's throat.

"I didn't mean that, Gin." Her breath hitched as he pressed a tantalizing kiss to the back of her neck, but was halted from going any farther by a discreet cough from Bill. She tossed the rest of her hair over her shoulder and smirked at Draco, stepping forward to join Hermione and Luna. Luna glanced approvingly at Ginny's gown.

"Very fiery, Ginny."

"You don't look too shabby yourself, Luna." Her friend smiled, smoothing the feathery wings down behind her back.

"Thanks. It's supposed to be a Thunderbird - I made it myself."

"Alright! Is everyone ready to go?" Hermione called from the front of the group, silencing the amiable chatter. Once a chorus of assent had sounded, she led the way out of the Burrow and into the darkening evening, getting into her best teacher voice.

"We'll be going to Ottery St. Catchpole for trick-or-treating," she announced, the rest of the Weasley clan and then some trooping out behind her. "Does everyone have their pillow cases?" A few sniggers traveled through the darkness, so she assumed they had. Spatters of conversation started up again, and Ginny and Draco walked to the front to join Hermione and Luna.

"So, Granger, remind me why we are participating in this strange muggle holiday again?" he drawled, draping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. Hermione shrugged.

"It was a way to get the family together, explore the world of muggles, and get some free candy," she said. Draco's right eyebrow rose slightly.

"Why the pillow cases?" At this, Hermione colored slightly.

"It's how the kids in my neighborhood used to do it," she said. "I found it kind of symbolic, I guess." Ginny, who'd noticed the signs of tuning out in her boyfriend - glassy eyes, slouched posture, and slack expression - elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Grinning at his sudden start, she turned towards Hermione.

"So, Herms, tell me about the history of Halloween." She heard her boyfriend's quiet groan and her grin widened. Hermione was quite happy to comply.

"Halloween has its origins in pagan festivals that happened near here, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland a long time ago…." Once Hermione had the fascinated attention of Ginny's father - who was dressed as Merlin - and was eagerly explaining the logistics of the holiday to him, Ginny snuggled up to Draco's side, sighing contentedly.

"A skeleton, Draco?" She playfully tousled his hair. "I would have never thought." She felt his shrug.

"The costume matched my hair - I simply had to buy it." Ginny let out a soft laugh and turned towards him, walking backward.

"You narcissistic prat." He pressed a brief kiss to her lips.

"You know you love it." Ginny twined her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I do," she said softly.


	31. Wartime

**A/N:** This one doesn't follow the last book. It doesn't have any d/g interaction, either - I may do something longer with the same plot (probably not, but you never know.) But I think I'm getting better at this writing more thing :)

 **Prompt #31:** 8/8/17

 _1105 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Arthur Weasley sighed in resignation. "You know how this move will play out, right? We'll be sacrificing so many Aurors in one go. We can't afford it, Remus."

"Arthur, it's the only way to catch them off guard, and you know it." The werewolf was slouched in his chair, running a bony hand through his tangled hair.

"But what will we tell the Aurors that go on the mission? That they'll die, and they should say their final goodbyes tomorrow?"

"We'll let the Aurors choose for themselves." He gestured towards Moody. "Do you have the list?" The other Order member nodded and gruffly cleared his throat.

"None of you will like this," he intoned gruffly, sweeping his gaze across the eleven people seated in front of him.

"Go on," Tonks encouraged, leaning forward in her seat.

"Hestia Jones," he began, touching the tip of one gnarled finger the parchment as he read. "Dennis Creevey. Joel Stuart. Beatrice Napper. Hannah Abbott." The names continued, Moody naming twelve in total. He paused after the twelfth, casting a dark look at the Weasleys. "And, of course, Ginny Weasley."

There was instant uproar, Arthur Weasley leaping up with both hands flat against the table and his wife furiously arguing with Minerva McGonagall.

"It's the only way, Molly," the professor was saying urgently. "Please, you have to understand - "

"Not my daughter!" Arthur bellowed, slamming a fist down on the wood. "I won't allow it! She's way too young anyway - how in Merlin's beard did she make it on the list?"

" _Quiet!_ " Throughout the hubbub, Dumbledore had been sitting calmly at the head of the table, but now he stood, his voice commanding but reasonable. Everyone shut up quickly. "We are all adults, yes?" he asked mildly, gazing at each Order member in turn. He was greeted with reluctant nods. "Good." He sat back down. "Then behave like one." There was an uncomfortable silence, punctured only by occasional deep breaths - as if a few people were trying to keep their tempers in check.

Moody was the first to speak. "Each person nominated will be given the choice of whether or not to participate," he said quietly. "It is their choice, and their choice alone whether to accept. If they are of age and have made their decision, family members cannot change it. But," he paused for effect, "we need as many people as we can get."

His explanation was greeted by yet another silence.

"Who wrote the list, Albus?" Molly had spoken, her voice trembling slightly. Arthur reached for her hand, clasping it in his own.

"Myself and Minerva," Dumbledore responded.

"And when will they be expected to have a decision?"

"Tonight."

"So little time," she murmured, casting her gaze down numbly at the table. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Well, if we have nothing else to discuss - "

"Wait!" It was Charlie who spoke this time, his lips set in a tight white line. "How likely is it that this mission will...will fail?" Everyone knew what he was asking.

"Very likely," Dumbledore responded gravely, his deep blue eyes grim. "We can only hope."

"Do you know which Death Eaters will be there?" Lupin asked.

"Yes," Moody responded, surprising them all. "Yes, I have a pretty good idea."

"Who?" Bill asked urgently.

"Well..." Moody began, suddenly fiddling with his cane. "Severus said that McNair would be there, as well as Yaxley, Lestrange, and - " He coughed, lowering his head slightly before completing the list. "And Malfoy."

"Which one?"

"The younger one."

 _ooo_

"Please, Gin-bug. There's just too much risk involved - "

"I've made up my mind, dad. I want to do this."

"But think of _us,_ Gin, if you won't think of anyone else." Her mother.

"The Order needs me to do this, mom." The redhead pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I really don't see what a big deal this is - "

"Big deal? _Big deal?_ " Her father's tone was disbelieving. "Ginny, this is a suicide mission!" His voice choked up slightly with the last few words. "Gin, we can't loose another child." Her mother, who had been dabbing her eyes with a hanky, placed a trembling hand on her only daughter's arm.

"Please, Ginny."

The young woman looked desperately at both parents, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I _know_ all of this, mum! Do you know how hard it was for me to decide? I - I know you need me here. But I know the Order needs me more. Don't you understand?"

Her parents gazed at her unhappily. Her mother moved forward and flung her arms around her daughter, burying her head in her shoulder. Her father quickly followed and Ginny let herself melt into their embrace. "I'm sorry, mum. Dad."

 _ooo_

She managed to leave the room without completely breaking down, but coming close to it several times. Knocking on the door to the kitchen, she waited with baited breath, tapping her toe impatiently against the uneven ground. Moments later, a soft "Come in," sounded and she opened the door, stepping gingerly inside. She was greeted with the sight of Dennis and Dumbledore quietly conversing, each seating at the table.

"I'm really sorry about this, Dumbledore, but..."

"I understand, Dennis. This is a terrible decision that no one should have to make." He smiled a tired smile. "Thank you, Dennis." The younger boy exited through the door, brushing past Ginny as he went. Ginny smiled at him, too.

"Dumbledore?" she asked, stepping into the light of the dim lantern hanging from the ceiling.

"Come in, come in, Ginny." His tired smile strengthened somewhat and he gestured to the seat Dennis had vacated. "So, have you made your decision?" Ginny nodded, sitting down.

"I have, sir. I - I want to participate in the mission." Dumbledore's expression was hard to decipher, but his eyes twinkled kindly as he took in the young woman before him.

"I'm assuming, Ginny, that this decision was not made easily, nor lightly."

"You're correct, sir."

"Then I applaud your bravery and wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, sir." He smiled gently.

"You may go. I will have an additional meeting for those who choose to accompany you later on. Expect a Patronus."

"I will sir. Thank you." She left the room, closing the door softly behind her and leaning against a nearby wall, her knees suddenly weak. _He_ was going to be there - him with the angelic white-blond hair and aristocratic features - and she might end up fighting him to the death. "What have I signed up for?" she asked herself quietly, pushing off the wall with one hand.

The empty corridor gave no answer.


	32. Anomaly

**A/N:** Shorter today. Very busy.

 **Prompt #32:** 8/9/17

 _407 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginerva Weasley was an anomaly - he was sure of it. _An anomaly._ The word rolled nicely off his tongue, but it didn't help that he'd started thinking it was some kind of seafood. He'd later been taught by his horrified father what the word really meant, and immediately associated it with Ginny Weasley.

She was just so different from what he was used to - he had grown up among tall, blond, pale, and aristocratic people. She was short, curvy, redheaded, and sprinkled with freckles. He'd often wondered how far those freckles went.

He did not just admit that.

But that was beside the point. She acted differently, too - the Malfoys were all poise and articulation while Weasleys were blustering, full of fire and honest emotions. Too honest, Draco noticed, for Ginny to hide anything from him. He could read every single emotion flitting across her face - pain, happiness, and everything in between. She was as open as a book. Malfoys never showed emotion, though.

As much as Ginny was fiery, Draco was icy. The mask he threw up as a defense never wavered, not even under the heaviest strain, and his motions never betrayed a single thought. _She was strange,_ he thought absently. As strange as he was, he supposed.

Everything about her was foreign - not just her mannerisms and looks, but her social status as well. He had long abandoned the childish insults he threw at the Weasley family for their poverty, but he had to acknowledge that her clothes were far from expensive, her wand and spell books secondhand, and vault at Gringotts nearly empty.

Not only was she an anomaly to him, but to others as well. Although extremely popular at school, she never wavered from her schoolwork - sometimes opting to use a Hogsmeade weekend for studying rather than hanging out. Most of the popular girls - Lavender Brown among them - didn't give a damn about schoolwork, but Ginny did. Draco often heard people whispering in the corridors - " _She's strange, that one. Cares more about school than keeping up appearances."_ But something drew people to her like moths to a flame - he supposed she and him weren't that different in that respect. They both commanded attention.

 _We'd make a good couple,_ he mused, before squashing that strand of thought viciously. He did _not_ just think that.

But he felt like he was home when with her, despite all their differences.

That was an anomaly, too.


	33. Trust

**A/N:** I'm going to be camping for the next three days - I'll try to get another one done tonight and make up the rest on Monday.

 **Prompt #33:** 8/10/17

 _694 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

For the fifth time that week, Ginny watched from the darkened staircase as her husband shouldered open the front door, tossing his white mask carelessly on the tiled floor and shrugging his long black cloak off. A house elf scurried forward to catch it, retreating immediately and disappearing. They all knew when their master was in a bad mood.

"Draco?" Ginny called down softly, descending the stairs. His face was covered with shadows from the flickering torches on the wall. He gave no response. "Draco?"

In a sudden fluid motion, the tall blond snatched up his fallen mask and threw it at the wall, his breathing harsh and heavy. It bounced off almost pathetically, skidding half-heartedly across the floor before coming to a halt at Ginny's feet. She didn't flinch, but took a step over the mask and down the final step, cautiously approaching the hunched figure near the doorway.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, heavy, and filled with pain. "Why me, Gin? Why do I have to?"

"You don't have to, Draco." She closed the last few steps between them and wrapped her arms around him. He was trembling, burying his head in her shoulder and letting out a strangled sob.

"They're killing children, now," he murmured brokenly. "They're torturing them and laughing and I'm standing there and I can't do a single thing."

"Draco - " Her breath caught in her throat, threatening to drown out all other words. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair and he lifted his head, their mouths colliding in a fury of pain and anguish.

"Ginny." His lips sought her neck and jawline, tracing a searing path down the slender column of her throat.

"Draco!" She gasped as he nipped at the tender flesh near the base of her neck. "Draco, please tell me what's wrong." She took his head in her hands, bringing him up to eye level. His expression was wild, eyes sparking with some unidentifiable emotion and lips drawn in a taut line.

"I killed Dolohov," he said abruptly, straightening and forcing his hand through his hair. "He was the one who killed the little boy."

"You - _what?_ "

"I killed Dolohov," he repeated, his voice quieter. He didn't quiet comprehend it, either. "We need to leave," he continued. His gaze met her wide eyes.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Yes, we do." She turned towards the staircase, already beginning a mental packing list.

"Wait, Gin." Draco put his hand on her arm, joining her at the first stair. "I - I have to go do something first." She turned towards him.

"What?"

"Blaise. I can't leave him there."

"Blaise! But Draco - it's too dangerous." She clutched at his shoulders, suddenly panicked. "You got away this time, but the Dark Lord won't let you escape so easily next time. Please, Draco."

"I have to do it," he said. His stare was almost vacant, staring into the distance as if already formulating a plan. "They all know Blaise is my closest friend - they'll interrogate him first about my betrayal. He won't last more than a day or two, and by then he'll be too injured to move. Now's my only chance, Ginny." His gaze snapped to hers, suddenly fierce and intent. "I can't let them get to him, Gin."

"Draco," she murmured, her voice catching. "I can't lose you when we're this close to freedom - not yet." He gripped her arms.

"Do you trust me, Ginny?" She blinked in surprise.

"Of course I do."

"Then trust me. Trust that I'll make it through this alive with Blaise. _Please._ " Ginny gazed into his icy grey eyes, seeing only hope, desperation, and the sheer force of determination behind it all.

"I trust you," she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair back from his forehead.

"Good." He pressed one more kiss to her lips and pulled back, snapping his fingers for an elf. "I promise I'll come home," he said. The elf appeared, handing him a dark cloak. He threw it on, turning back towards the door.

"I trust you," Ginny called as he stood in the doorway.

"So do I," he said soberly, before stepping out into the night.


	34. Variety

**A/N:** Eh. This one was okay.

 **Prompt #34:** 8/11/17

 _516 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Draco paused, listening intently. Ginny had been silent for a while now - ever since she'd entered his flat seeking 'inspiration,' or whatever she called it.

"Ginny?" he asked cautiously, looking around the living room.

"Yes?" Her voice came from his bedroom - _bedroom?_ A bad feeling rising up in his stomach, he approached the door warily, pulling it open and stopping short at the opening.

" _Ginny?_ " He heard a laugh.

"Hey, Draco." He noticed a glimmer of red in his closet and gaped, flabbergasted.

"What are you doing in my closet?" he demanded, making his way quickly to the wardrobe and pulling the door open farther.

"Poking around," came the completely frank response accompanied by more rustling. He blinked as a suddenly bright green appeared in the back, followed by a fuchsia. "No, too much," Ginny muttered, poking her wand at the fabric. She made a satisfied sound as the fuchsia was replaced by a lighter lavender.

Draco could only emit a strangled 'eep' as his best friend rummaged through _his_ clothing, randomly tossing shirts and slacks over her shoulder. She glanced, amused, over her shoulder.

"Cat got your tongue?" she teased, before returning to her task. He finally regained his power of speech.

" _What_ are you doing?" he bellowed, striding forward and grabbing her shoulders. He spun her around, grimacing at the wreckage of colored clothing strewn around the floor. Ginny looked up at him, her eyes widened innocently.

"Me?" she asked. "Well, I was just looking for…variety. Yes, variety." She nodded vigorously.

" _Variety?_ "

"Mm hmm." She tugged out of his grasp and turned back to the pile of clothing, muttering to herself as she pulled out a shirt and turned it red with a jab of her wand. He spluttered uselessly. That was _his_ shirt!

"Screw variety!" he exploded once his voice came back. "Those are _my_ clothes and I won't have you messing with them." His lips formed a childish pout and he crossed his arms. Ginny didn't even spare him a glance.

"Grow up," she said, tossing the red shirt behind her. It collided with his face and he choked back a surprised gasp. Grabbing the fabric, he inspected it closely.

"Hey! That's your - your hair color!" He could almost see her grin.

"I happen to like that color, and I'm pretty sure you do too."

"I - what?"

"Like my hair. You play with it a lot, you know." He frowned. She'd noticed? He patted his pockets for his wand. He would get her back for this stunt, he would.

He couldn't find his wand.

"Bugger," he cursed. Another shirt hit him in the face. "That's it - " He dived towards her, tackling her to the ground. She landed with an 'oomph' on his pile of clothing and he landed on top of her, quickly slapping her wand out of her hand.

"Hey!"

"No one touches my clothes," he growled. " _No one._ " It was her turn to pout.

"But I wanted variety!"

"I have enough variety already."

"Fine."

A silence fell.

"Um, Draco - would you mind getting off of me?"

"No."

"What?"

"Variety, Ginny."


	35. Curtains

**A/N:** Meh. Back from camping.

 **Prompt #35:** 8/12/17

 _496 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Draco Malfoy stepped into the foyer of Malfoy Manor, stripping himself of his dirty cloak and hanging it on a nearby hook.

"Ginny?" he called, feeling slightly foolish as he stood there, dripping mud and water everywhere.

"Yes, Draco?" He frowned - her voice was coming from the living room. _She's usually in the library…_

"Er…can I have a bit of help here?" He heard an amused snort quickly followed by light footsteps. The redhead appeared, a smirk firmly on her lips and wand in hand.

"I assume Ron beat you, again?" she asked, waving her wand casually in his direction. He let out a noncommittal grunt. "You should really learn not to accept requests for quidditch from my brothers," she continued. "Haven't you learned that Ron's a wicked keeper?"

"Not nearly as good as you are at chasing," he mumbled as she pulled his shirt over his head and banished it with her wand. She raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can't play, Draco." He grumbled some more.

"Annoying pregnancy." Her smile widened.

"And whose fault was that?" She leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth before dragging him into the living room where she had been resting. "Now, I'd like you to meet - " She broke off abruptly. "Oh dear. Smokey! Get down from there!" She rushed towards the window, mounting a chair and pulling a small ball of grey fluff off the velvet curtains with a loud ripping noise.

" _Smokey?_ " Draco spluttered, trying to regain his ability to think clearly. "Who's _Smokey?_ "

"The cat," Ginny called over her shoulder, exasperated. "Now, would you mind helping?" She was struggling to balance on the teetering chair, the cat struggling in her arms. Draco's eyes widened.

"Oh, shit," he cursed, striding forward and catching the wobbling witch around the middle. "What were you _thinking_ , romping around like that? You could get you and the baby killed!" Ginny, now safely deposited on the floor, rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, it's not like I'm sick or anything." Nevertheless, she stood patiently still as Draco inspected her closely for injuries. Satisfied, he finally turned around - his mouth promptly falling open once more.

"What happened to my curtains?" he demanded, taking in the long gashes slashing the brown fabric. He whirled around. "That - that _cat!_ " Ginny hugged the kitten close to her chest protectively.

"He's new to the house," she said, stroking his head. "He doesn't know any better." Watching Draco's panicked actions with mounting amusement, she added, "Well? You are a wizard, aren't you?" Grumbling, Draco waved his wand at the ripped curtains, which stitched themselves back together quickly. Turning to his wife, who was now cooing over the cat in her arms, he glowered.

"I'm still muddy, you know," he announced to no one in particular.

"Then go take a shower," came Ginny's reasonable voice. She was still fawning over the cat. Draco stomped off, muttering to himself.

"Stupid curtains. Stupid cat."

 _And_ his curtains had been new, too.


	36. Sacrifice

**A/N:** I got a whole bunch of better ideas while I was writing this, but didn't want to restart. Ah well.

 **Prompt #36:** 8/13/17

 _423 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Blaise Zabini narrowed his eyes at the cozy image presented in his living room - Ginny curled comfortably on the couch as Draco sat on the floor next to her, both reading from the same book. _Since when had Draco been so friendly around the littlest Weasley, anyway?_ he asked himself, frowning. Now that he came to think of it, his platinum-haired friend had been visiting his flat an awful lot ever since Ginny had moved in.

His attention was directed back to the pair as Draco shifted slightly closer to the redhead, his head almost touching her knee. _Enough._ He entered the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet. Both looked up, slightly startled.

"Oh. Hullo, Blaise." It was Ginny who had spoken. She uncurled her legs from under her and stood up, stretching. Blaise was strongly reminded of a cat, and when Draco stood up as well, he pushed the thought out of his mind. Now was _not_ the time to get mushy and love-sick. Draco glanced at the clock.

"It's getting late," he said, more to Ginny than to Blaise. "I should get going." Ginny smiled at him warmly.

"Alright. See you soon?"

"Yeah." Draco scratched his head awkwardly, then spun around and headed towards Blaise.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" Blaise asked in a low voice as the blond passed. Puzzled, Draco nodded. Both men stepped out into the night, illuminated by the harsh light of the street lamp.

"What's this about?" Draco asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing at his friend.

"I think you know, Draco." He paused.

"This is about Ginny, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Blaise was suddenly uncomfortable, fidgeting and glancing down at his feet. He could believe he was talking to _Draco Malfoy,_ of all people, about Ginny Weasley. "Look," he said, "I know you're attracted to her, right?" Draco nodded slowly.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"And - well…I kinda figured that she was attracted to you, too." Draco's eyes widened slightly.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. And so…." He let out his breath in a long gush of air. "I just wanted to let you know that you're welcome around anytime." Draco's expression was momentarily confused, but cleared up seconds later.

"Thank you, Blaise," he said quietly. "I know how much this means to you."

 _No, you don't,_ Blaise thought bitterly. _No one does._ He forced a smile.

"See you around." He watched in silence as Draco turned, apparated, and disappeared.

He hoped they would both be happy.


	37. Suspicious

**A/N:** Not nearly as long or good as I wanted it to be - had to go to sleep.

 **Prompt #37:** 8/14/17

 _256 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been suspicious of something for a while now - nearly three weeks. As he pushed the covers off his bare chest and sat up, he noticed with a wry smile that Ginny wasn't in bed. Again.

"Gin?" he called, grabbing his wand and partially shutting the curtains to block out the morning sunlight. "Are you in the bathroom?" An incoherent mumbling came from that general direction and Draco let a secretive grin cross his features. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching briefly before walking to the bathroom and knocking. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," came the stuffy reply. He opened the door and stepped in - the sight was as he expected. Ginny was kneeling over the toilet, face pasty and shirt clingy with perspiration. "Are you sure you're not sick?" he asked innocently, bending down to help her up. She clung to him.

"I'm fine," she murmured. "Slightly sick. It'll pass soon."

"If you say so." He helped her to the sink - she splashed her face briefly with water - before opening the door and leading her to the bed. "Well, whatever it is, you need sleep. It's only seven."

"Prat."

"Love you too." He wrapped his arms around her waist - not failing to notice that her belly hadn't shown signs of pregnancy yet - and pressed his lips to the side of her neck.

He hoped she would tell him soon. He'd already booked a cruise in roughly three months, and didn't want to take her on it without reason.


	38. Convict

**A/N:** First of all, I want to thank the people that have reviewed so far! I don't have PM on, so I'll just respond to them here.

 **morganna12:** Thank you so much! What kind of site is this? I might be interested. Hope you enjoy today's drabble!

 **smileforsun:** I'm glad you like it! I think Ginny's just trying to wait for the appropriate moment - she wants it to be a surprise. He already guessed, though. I might do another one later on about her telling him and his admitting that he already knew.

 **TayMcGough03:** I know it's been a while since you reviewed, but I just want to say thank you for being the first!

Besides that, I like this story more than some of the rest - I think - but I was tuning into the movie my sister was watching halfway through it and it might sound slightly disjointed. Please let me know if it does!

 **Prompt #38:** 8/15/17

 _475 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Ginny yawned, eyes blinking open in the early morning light.

"You're finally awake, sleepy head," came a voice nearby. Squinting, Ginny made out the form of Luna standing near the dresser, quickly running a comb through her hair. Her own bed had been neatly made - _of course,_ Ginny thought, _Luna's been awake for ages._

"What time is it?" she forced out between yawns.

"About seven," Luna answered, putting down the comb and yanking on a sweater. She turned back before stepping out of the bedroom door. "You'd better get up. Nargles always attack late sleepers." Letting a small smile, she exited the room.

Groaning, Ginny sat up, clutching at her head as the sudden movement sent a pang of pain through her skull. She performed her morning routine in a trance - the same trance that had stolen over her at every possible moment for the past five years - but when she stepped into the small kitchen of their shared flat, Luna shook her out of it.

"Ginny? The Daily Prophet's on the table. I got you some coffee, but I've got to go." She sent an apologetic glance towards her friend. "Early meeting today." Ginny waved her hand dismissively.

"I'll be fine, Luna. Thanks for the breakfast." With one last wave, Luna stepped out of the flat.

Sitting down at the dining table with a gusty sigh, Ginny cupped her coffee cup in both hands and glanced down at the newspaper.

"Bloody Rita Skeeter's at it again," she muttered, freeing one hand to flip randomly through the paper. "Will she _ever_ retire? I swear - "

Her last words choked in her throat and she nearly dropped her coffee, hastily depositing it on the table with a shaky hand. A black and white picture of Draco Malfoy - _I thought I forgot about him five years ago,_ she thought desperately - stared up at her, eyes sullen and flat.

'Draco Malfoy caught at last!' the headline announced with bold capital letters. Ginny carefully picked up the paper, leaning back in her seat and inspecting the article closer.

"D-Draco Malfoy was arrested yesterday at his home in Wiltshire," she read slowly, not quite comprehending the words. She looked up, staring blankly at the peach-colored wall opposite. "He's a convict," she whispered.

She'd always known somewhere inside her that this would happen, but when it did, she wasn't prepared. Their brief, passionate interlude at Hogwarts hadn't been enough to dissuade him from following the Dark Lord, and he had flung himself into his assignments with a fierce determination born of fear for his parents' lives.

And now he was paying for it.

Numbly, she stood up, placing the newspaper on the table and reaching for her wand. She would go to work as usual, see her friends as usual, _live_ as usual.

This didn't change anything. It didn't change a thing.


	39. Riot

**A/N:** I just realized I got a whole bunch of dates and numbers wrong in past drabbles - I fixed some of them just now. I hope it doesn't send notifications when I do that - if it does, my apologies! This one didn't develop quite how I wanted it, but I hope you like it.

 **Prompt #39:** 8/16/17

 _811 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" a voice hissed from beside the redhead. She nodded without turning, face determined in the dim light of the corridor.

"Of course," she responded, standing. "Let's go crash a party."

 _ooo_

The Ministry of Magic threw an elaborate welcome ball for the new Minister that December - an artfully decorated ballroom was set up weeks in advance, and invitations were sent out quickly on black parchment by owl. The guests, many noticed, were primarily wizards and witches dressed in sweeping black robes and white skull-like masks. These invitees always clustered together near the stage, openly raucous and disruptive. The guards, stationed at every door, didn't seem to mind, though. Neither did the Minister.

"Welcome, welcome!" he shouted, taking his place at the podium. It took a few moments for the black-robed people to quiet down, but he only chuckled. "I am eternally grateful to Rufus Scrimgeour for allowing me to reach the level that I'm at today," he continued, a leer spreading across his face. "It was rather…polite of him, don't you think?" At his words, the crowd next to the stage erupted into blustery cheers - a few sent sparks flying into the air from carelessly-waved wands.

At the back of the room, Ginny Weasley sat quietly, clenching her fists beneath her demure dress robes. The witch sitting next to her - an old, somewhat senile woman - tittered at the new Minister's words.

"Charming, isn't he?" she cackled. Ginny only nodded. The Minister continued his speech.

"I would also like to thank the Noble House of Black," he announced. "They have been a key part of my campaign and I would not be standing before you if they had not lent a hand."

The trigger word. Ginny wordlessly reached up to tuck a piece of brilliant red hair behind her ear, making sure to let her hand linger there. Almost immediately, she noticed with a grim smile that a wizard across the room from her had stood up, seeming to approach the Minister's supporters near the stage. This part was crucial, she knew - if Neville messed up, they'd all be toast.

"Who're you?" she heard from the stage - a snarling voice coming from the mass of black cloaks.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," came his faint but distinct voice, bold and unreserved. "And I'm not alone."

Then the world descended into chaos.

Ginny leaped up as flares of light streaked across the ballroom - thankfully, no green yet. Sweeping the room at a glance, she saw that everyone was in their positions, wands drawn and faces set. The clock above the stage ticked - five seconds to nine, four, three, two, one -

All at once, flashes of light exploded across the room - _portkeys,_ she thought with a twinge of satisfaction. _Everyone unrelated to this battle will be gone in a few seconds, now._ The brown chairs, which had looked so innocent until now, had been transformed into portkeys, which had transported all the bystanders away.

Ginny moved fluidly through the remaining chairs, and as the curses returned full-force, she threw herself fully into the battle. By now, most of the Death Eaters had thrown off their masks and were retaliating with vengeance. The members of the Order and Voldemort's supporters were fairly well-matched - both in numbers and skill.

Ducking as a spell whistled past her ear, she sprang forward, curses spilling from her lips. "Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, sidestepping a Death Eater easily and taking down another. Time seemed to whip by as it usually did when she was fighting - she ignored the pangs of hunger at her belly (the Order was always short on food) and the painful stab of a gash in her thigh, and focused solely on the task at hand.

Whirling around, she sensed her attacker before she saw him - her hand flew out and fingers locked around his wrist as she completed her turn. His wand now useless, knocked to the ground, she thrust her own at his throat.

"Nice try, _Death Eater,_ " she hissed, before halting abruptly. Ashy-blond hair peeked out of the black hood and as the mask fell away, she noticed the very distinct aristocratic features and stormy grey eyes. She laughed. "Joining the dark side at last, Malfoy?" His expression didn't change.

"And I'm enjoying every second of it," he breathed, before wrenching his wrist out of her grasp. She reacted quickly, throwing herself to the side before shooting a curse at him that missed him by a centimetre. However, she paused, confused, when all he did was tuck his hood more firmly around his head.

"What are you doing?" she demanded sharply, wand at the ready.

"I'm changing my mind," he said simply. "That offer Dumbledore made a few years back?" He smirked. "I like the sound of it."

Draco Malfoy would meet the rest of the Order that night.


	40. Waste

**A/N:** This one kind or matches the last one - not intentional, but it happened.

 **Prompt #40:** 8/17/17

 _452 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Malfoy," Ginny warned for the second time that day. "Don't throw that out. We can find uses for it, you know." Draco turned to face the redhead, eyes wide with disbelief.

"But Weasley, this is an old soup can!" He held it up, the lid flapping almost pathetically in the dusty light. She snatched it from him, placing it on the counter.

"You never know," she said, spooning stale beans into her mouth. She placed her now-empty can beside his before picking up a broom, sweeping a few crumbs to the side. "Can you take out the laundry while I clean up?" she asked, not looking up. There was an awkward pause, and when Ginny looked up, she saw the tall blond awkwardly shuffling his feet.

"Um, I - "

"You don't _know_ how to fold laundry?" she asked incredulously, momentarily stopping her sweeping.

"Well, I never needed to in the past," he said defensively. "It's not exactly something we did at home." Rolling her eyes, Ginny tossed the broom in a corner and motioned for him to follow her. She exited the room and entered another smaller one, kneeling to tap something with her wand. A small door opened and the scent of freshly-washed clothes wafted through.

"There's quite a simple spell," she said, glancing up at him. "But we can't use it here because it would interfere with wards or something - Bill didn't go into details."

"So I'll have to do it manually?"

"Yeah. It's how my mum did it anyway, so I know how." She gestured to a spot next to her. "Come on - you'll never learn if you stand there." Draco approached her warily and knelt, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets.

"So, where do I start?" he asked uncertainly. Ginny lifted the first item off the pile - a shirt - and led Draco's hands through the necessary motions. The product was a somewhat messy, somewhat rumpled, and very unprofessional. Sighing, Ginny shook out the shirt and did it again.

"This is a waste of time," Malfoy finally complained, leaning back on his haunches and staring woefully at the small pile of haphazardly-stacked clothes in front of him. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You'll never learn if you don't try it enough," she pointed out, before grabbing another shirt and folding it neatly.

"I don't know how you do it." He was eyeing the shirt she had just placed on the pile next to her with something akin to envy - _but Malfoys didn't care about such trivial and mundane things as folding clothes, did they?_

"Practice," she responded curtly, picking up another. She heard her companion let out a soft _whoosh_ of air.

"What a waste of time," he murmured.


	41. Naughty

**A/N:** Short and fluffy. I'll try to do another one (or two) today to get back on track.

 **Prompt #41:** 8/18/17

 _214 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

"Draco!" Ginny complained, trying to avoid his searching hands. "We have a Ministry gala to attend tonight, and _you're not helping!_ "

"But Ginevra," he purred, curving his palm around her waist and pulling her towards him. "You know these galas are just for publicity. No one would notice if we weren't present, and even if they did, I have more than enough money to cover it up."

"I need to put on my dress," she retorted, wriggling out of his grasp and turning back towards the mirror.

"I like you much better like this, though," he returned smoothly, quickly and effectively trapping her in his embrace once more. Leaning down, he trailed a line of butterfly kisses down the slender column of her throat.

"Draco!" she gasped, trying and failing to escape.

"That is my name, love," he whispered against her throat. Her breath hitched.

"We're going to be late," she said desperately, but she knew the attempt was futile. As Draco pushed her up against the wall, she sent a half-hearted patronus to the coordinator of the whole event - no doubt her mother would be wondering where her daughter was that night.

She was quickly distracted, however, as her boyfriend did something quite wonderful to her shoulder. He was, after all, quite naughty.


	42. Nuisance

**A/N:** Second one today!

 **Prompt #42:** 8/19/17

 _369 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

He was sitting in a cloud, he noticed - a very soft, white cloud. Sighing, he leaned back and momentarily shut his eyes. It was a nice dream this time - the first nice one in a while. He meant to enjoy it as much as possible.

But wait - what was that? An insistent pounding gradually strengthened - he frowned, sitting up. This sound didn't belong in his dream at all. Where -

He woke up with a start. The pounding which he'd heard in his dream turned out to be knocking - _very loud knocking,_ he thought irritably - and on his door to boot. Maybe if he stayed silent his flatmate would think he was still asleep and stop bothering him. _Wishful thinking,_ he admitted. Ginny Weasley was never one to take a hint. However, he paused his train of thought as the knocking ceased. Had she really? -

 _BANG._ He instinctively flinched, half lifting his coverlet to shield his face. When he ventured out from behind it, he observed with some annoyance that the object of his irritation was currently standing triumphantly amid the wreckage of his door, tucking her wand back into a pocket.

"Rise and shine, grumpy!" she called cheerfully as she stepped out of the wooden remains and pulled the blanket out of his limp grasp. He feebly attempted a few snatches at the fabric but failed miserably.

"Give that back," he snapped, flopping back down on his remaining bedsheets. "You're not playing fair at all."

"Life isn't fair, Malfoy," Ginny responded. "Now get your arse out of that bed before I get it out for you. We're having lunch with Luna, or have you forgotten?"

"What time?"

"One. It's eleven now, so you'd better get ready. I know how long it takes for you to pick out clothes." This cheeky comment was met with an accurately thrown pillow, and Draco smirked in smug satisfaction at her yelp.

"I do not," he said imperiously, sitting up at last. "Now, please leave so I can dress." His eyes followed her as she flounced out the room, pillow discarded on the ground. His smirk widened as she repaired the door.

His flatmate was a nuisance, but she could be useful at times.


	43. Plead

**A/N:** Kind of how I wanted it to turn out? I dunno.

 **Prompt #43:** 8/20/17

 _419 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Malfoys did not plead. They did not beg, grovel, or whimper. Apologizing was also out of the question. All those plebeian behaviors were below them, and quite frankly, Draco wouldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't know how even if he wanted to.

The first time he met Ginevra Molly Weasley, it was in the first floor corridor near the Great Hall. A blur of red was all he could see before he was knocked off his feet, landing in a disgruntled heap near the wall.

"Hey!" came the slow voice of Crabbe. "That wasn't very…" He paused, as if searching for the right word.

"Nice!" Goyle supplied helpfully, and Crabbe nodded vigorously.

"Yeah!" Draco, whose anger at the time overrode his contempt of the twin buffoons, stood up with agonizing slowness, taking special care to straighten his ruffled robes and dust lint off his sleeves. Narrowing his eyes at the crumpled lump topped with flaming red hair, he snorted derisively as he noticed who the hair belonged to.

"Ginny Weasley," he drawled, crossing his arms. "What a pleasure. Pity you had to ruin it by smashing into me." He snorted. "Not that you'd mind falling over. You wouldn't notice the difference, quite honestly." He watched with an expression of extreme disgust on his face as the littlest Weasley got up. The disgust turned momentarily to surprise, however, as she marched up to him and poked her finger savagely at his chest.

"I wouldn't have bumped into you slimy reptile if you weren't in the way!" she accused, brown eyes blazing and hair in disarray. Draco's surprise was short-lived.

"How dare you blame this on _me,_ " he hissed, staring back with an equal amount of ferocity. "You were the one barreling down the hall like you owned it. Which, I may add, will never happen at the rate you're going."

"I demand an apology, Malfoy," Ginny said scathingly. "I'll say mine right now: I'm sorry. There. Now your turn." Draco stared at her incredulously, then began to laugh.

"You expect me to apologize to you? To plead for your mercy?" His laugh turned biting. "In your dreams Weasley." He turned, cloak swishing in a way that would make Snape proud, and stalked off, his two sidekicks trailing along behind him.

In the next six years, he would apologize to the youngest Weasley countless times, some of his own volition, and would plead for her mercy a dozen more. Being married to her was no easy feat, he discovered.


	44. Green

**A/N:** Slightly whimsical - kind of how I wanted it? Green is also my favorite color :)

 **Prompt #44:** 8/21/17

 _706 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Green had always been Ginny's favorite color. Even before she met the Boy-Who-Lived, she was enthralled by the color so abundantly found in nature - she would spend every possible moment outside, breathing in the freshness of swaying trees and flowering blossoms. Her brothers had always teased her that green would clash horribly with her hair, but did she care? No, thank you very much. Green was beautiful enough for both of them.

When she did meet Harry Potter, she viewed his eyes as an indication that one day she would be Mrs. Potter, living in a house with a white picket fence and dozens of children running afoot. _Why else would I be attracted to the color green?_ she asked herself, delighted with the beginnings of a childish crush. Green was the color she was thinking about as she wrote her first love poem, green was the color of Harry Potter's eyes, _green, green, green. Green as a fresh pickled toad._

At her sorting, the Hat was dropped unceremoniously atop her head, but not before she'd taken in the Great Hall in all its splendor. She was stunned, taking in all four houses and their proudly flying banners. Gryffindor, she noticed, was a vibrant crimson - similar to her hair, she thought. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were blue and yellow respectively, but it was Slytherin that caught her young, relatively unbiased eye. Slytherin, with its dark greens and glimmering silvers and ominous serpent. Slytherin - the house which she would later learn turned out the most dark witches and wizards in the history of Hogwarts. But for now, she would sit and marvel at the color. It was, after all, her favorite.

As she grew older - realizing Harry Potter was not all that he seemed and that his green eyes, once so wonderful, had become clouded with fear and worry - her watchful eye turned to seek more interesting things. Her fascination with Slytherin had never really disappeared - she'd simply put it away for a later time. That time was now, she discovered, and pursued it with a quiet determination. She found herself staring at Draco Malfoy more and more often - thinking about green and blond hair and silver eyes and pale skin. They all complimented each other quite nicely, she thought, and though she had never really interacted with the Slytherin besides a few exchanged insults, she was intrigued nonetheless.

At the legendary Battle of Hogwarts, she was never one to back down from a fight. When her parents, insisting she stay in the Room of Requirement, had left, she followed stealthily. She'd seen one too many green flashes that night, dodging all that were sent her way, and thinking that maybe this particular shade of green wasn't pleasant at all. When Harry and Voldemort stood, wands locked, among the debris of the courtyard, Ginny couldn't help but notice the clashing of red and green, and how they met in the middle to create some indescribable color. And when red finally defeated green, she wondered if it meant anything at all.

The year after the war was anything but relaxing. Although Hogwarts had re-opened in the fall, there was still much work to be done - what with all the destruction and left-over dark magic in the air. A few of the older students who hadn't been able to finish their school work over the summer had come back to redo their seventh year - all the students had. The teaching staff that year had left much to be desired. Ginny, feeling somewhat betrayed by her favorite color, refused to look at anything resembling it - which was why she tried her hardest to ignore Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin green. After the war, the Malfoy family had tried to resume some semblance of a normal life, but society would not let them. Although the hero of the war had defended the family in court, many were still unhappy that they had escaped Azkaban, and were determined the make them pay.

So Ginny watched him, moving through the school year in an almost automated way, and seeing green wherever she went. And when she finally gathered up the nerve to confront him face-to-face, she discovered that he liked the color green, too.


	45. Joy

**A/N:** Oh dear. Well - guess I'm behind by two again. Humph. Cat killed bird, took bird to wildlife rehabilitation place (which took the entire afternoon), etc. Excuses, I know. Whoooops.

 **Prompt #45:** 8/22/18

 _1032 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

A small but distinct rustling noise alerted Draco to another presence in the room - friend or foe, he was not sure. He straightened from the present he was wrapping, eyes narrowing and hand swiftly grasping the wand on the table. In the half-light of the lamp, he noticed a shadow lurking near the entrance.

"Who's there?" he demanded, raising his wand. A giggle erupted and his wife stepped out into the open, grinning and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey, Draco." She peeped up at him through her lashes, blinking coquettishly. "Would you believe that I just wanted a late drink?" Draco glared. She straightened, her smile turning sheepish. "Alright, alright. I'll admit I was snooping."

"Too right you were," he muttered, turning back to the half-wrapped present and hastily shoving it away. His surprise had been ruined - hours of waking up in the dead of night and coming downstairs to prepare.

"Did you really expect me not to notice you weren't in bed?" she asked, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She glanced at the present appreciatively. "I'm glad you're finally getting into the Christmas spirit, though. Maybe we'll actually manage to have a Christmas celebration with the two of us, here."

 _What?_ Draco stiffened slightly in surprise, then forced himself to relax. So she hadn't discovered his plan, yet. That was good.

"I look forward to it," he responded dryly, turning to her and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Come on. Let's get back to bed."

 _ooo_

The next day dawned bright and cheery, rays of sunlight slanting through the partially-opened curtains. Turning his head, Draco observed his wife in the light. Her long, dark lashes brushed gently against her freckle-dusted cheeks, lips pursed in sleep. He smiled.

"Hey," he murmured, touching his fingertips lightly to her jaw. "It's Christmas, you know." Ginny yawned and stretched, her eyes fluttering open and lips curving up in a sleepy smile.

"I know," she said, lacing her fingers with Draco's. "It'll be our second Christmas together." She chuckled. "Remember last year's fiasco? You wouldn't talk to me for a week." Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, yes," he admitted, "but that's last year. Let's focus on this year right now." His wife laughed.

"I think that was the most optimistic thing you've said all your life," she said cheekily, sitting up. "Now, hurry up and get dressed. We have a lunch date with Luna and Blaise, remember?"

It was another twenty minutes until Draco had actually left the bed, and then thirty more for him to get ready.

"You take longer than I do in the mornings!" Ginny complained from the kitchen. "Honestly, do you use makeup or something?" Draco ignored her.

The lunch with their friends proved to be uneventful as well - they exchanged gifts, ate a festive meal, and departed, Ginny and Luna promising to meet up again soon.

As Draco and Ginny stepped back into their flat, both lightly dusted with snow, Draco immediately rushed to his study to make sure everything was according to plan. Appearing at the door a few minutes later, Ginny smiled.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping inside. Draco quickly pushed the papers aside, hidden from view.

"Last minute business transactions," he said dismissively, standing up. "Do feel like grabbing some hot cocoa?" Ginny smiled.

"I already made some." She gestured to the mug in her hand. "Yours is in the kitchen. C'mon." The remainder of the afternoon was spent playing chess, binging on chocolate, and last minute decorations.

Finally, Draco got up from his comfortable position on the couch. "Let's go outside for a moment, Gin," he suggested, stretching. "Loosen our legs a bit." Ginny agreed readily, standing up as well and following her husband out of the room.

While pulling on her boots, Ginny asked, "What do you have in mind for dinner?" Draco froze momentarily.

"I've got something planned," he said vaguely. "Don't worry about it." Puzzled, Ginny frowned, but allowed herself to be pulled out into the swirling snow.

While Ginny was happily chucking snowballs at a target - Draco would not yet agree to a full-fledged fight - the blond hurriedly cast a patronus which he sent to the Weasleys, and another towards his own family. Hoping silently Ginny would stay outside just a bit further, he was dismayed at her request to go back indoors.

"Let's stay out here just a bit longer," he said wildly, moving in front of her to block her path. She pouted.

"But I'm hungry," she pointed out, trying to step around him. Draco glanced around desperately for inspiration.

"I - I'll participate in a snowball fight," he said, almost immediately wishing he hadn't said it. A speculative grin appeared on Ginny's face and her eyes lit up.

"Sure," she said slowly, her grin widening. "I'd like that."

Draco groaned.

An hour later, a very wet Draco and victorious Ginny trundled back to their flat. "Stay here for a sec," Draco said, exhausted. Nodding ginny began removing her snow clothes while Draco peeked into the kitchen.

"Everything ready?" he whispered. He heard Molly Weasley's whisper back.

"Yes. Where's Ginny?"

"Coming," he said shortly, before withdrawing and heading back towards the front door. "Ginny?"

"Right here." She smiled up at him. "How about dinner?" Draco's only response was to take her hand, leading her towards the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas!" chorused the entire Weasley family as they popped out from various positions in the darkened room. Percy flicked his wand and the lights turned on, while George rained red and green confetti down. Ginny laughed, delighted.

"Mum! Dad! What are you guys doing here?"

"Draco invited us, darling," her mother said, patting her daughter's head affectionately. "Of course, we agreed. Such a fantastic plan of his!" Looking around, Ginny noticed for the first time that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were standing in the corner, looking slightly uncomfortable and out-of-place.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny greeted, smiling broadly. "Welcome to our humble abode."

And as Draco looked at Ginny, flitting around the guests with a brilliant smile on her face, Draco figured all the planning had been worth it.


	46. Cut

**A/N:** NOOOOOOOO. I'm so behind. Oooh - but I like this one.

 _Why do I like the dark ones the best?_ I ask myself.

*silence*

* * *

 **Prompt #46:** 8/23/17

 _449 words, according to Google docs._

The war came back. It always did. Draco sat bolt upright in his sweat-soaked sheets, panting and gripping the comforter with all the strength he could muster. He didn't even cringe as the cloth tore - he would deal with that later.

Flash of red and green speared his vision - bodies thumping to the ground, blood trickling slowly through the stones, grand turrets and huge towers crashing to the earth. Inhuman cries filled his ringing ears - werewolf, giant, demon, and every single creature he could remember.

And then there were the screams of the people. Those were by far the worst. He could tell whom each scream belonged to - Lavender Brown's early on in the battle, Crabbe's later on. Each face he had glimpsed haunted his nightmares, accusing him of all the crimes he did and did not commit - so many.

He couldn't take it anymore. Swinging his body off the bed and standing on shaking legs, he peered closely at the scars lining his wrist. He'd promised to himself he would never do it again.

Funny, how different he felt this time around.

Heading to the bathroom with almost clear-headed intention, he slipped past the slightly-open door and ignored the light switch, opting to light a candle instead. He had and always would hate the harsh artificial light of electricity, and choose not to use it in almost every case.

Glancing for a second in the mirror, he tried not to flinch at the haggard image presented to him - his cheekbones protruded out of his face and eyes were hooded in darkness. He was not a pleasant sight.

Turning to the cabinet next to the tub, he opened the drawn methodically, taking out a razor. Not his preferred tool, but he was too tired to go to the kitchen for the knife.

He was so tired.

Propping himself up against the tub, he placed the razor against his upturned wrist and slowly drew it across to the other side, relishing the sharp, bright pain that accompanied it. Watching the blood flow in fascination, he placed the razor slightly above the first cut and did it again. The lines of the wounds calmed him somewhat - it was one of the few things in his life that were organized and straightforward.

A slight darkness shadowed his vision, and he smiled. Unconsciousness would come soon, and with it, peace.

Unfortunately for him - _or was it really? -_ a red-haired woman, scarred and battered by the war like he was, couldn't sleep either. She would save him from the darkness, and, combining the shattered shards of their souls, could make a somewhat whole human being again.

But for now, he would enjoy the silence.


	47. Forfeit

**A/N:** Hehehehe, I'm so behind…SCHOOL. Yes, school. That shall be my excuse.

And I am aware that I took a few liberties with the characters in this one - Jack Sloper was actually a replacement beater for one of the Weasley twins during Umbridge's reign, but I was too lazy to come up with another name. And I actually like this one. Surprise.

 **Prompt #47:** 8/24/17

 _845 words, according to Google docs._

* * *

Rain lashed down in great torrents, skies grey and stormy. Thunder rumbled occasionally but lightening never flared - the eye of the storm was still a fair distance away. Ginny, eyes squinted against the onslaught, tore across the quidditch field to intercept a Slytherin chaser. Grabbing the quaffle in one smooth movement, she nodded briefly to Demelza before racing back towards the Slytherin goalposts. She narrowed her eyes at the keeper hovering near the center hoop and mentally reviewed each step for the Porskoff Ploy before abruptly dropping the ball.

A shout of surprise came from the chaser pursuing her as Katie Bell neatly caught the quaffle and shot it through the hoop. Resounding cheers echoed from the Gryffindor side of the stadium, but the effect was somewhat muffled by the clear, bubble-like apparition encasing the stands. Rain poured off the sides and onto the field - now a veritable swamp.

Grinning at Katie, Ginny did a celebratory flip and high-fived Demelza. They all raced off in geese-formation, dodging bludgers and saturated with water.

"A beautiful goal by Gryffindor chasers," Luna's dreamy voice declared. "Oh! A bludger is sent towards Harry Potter - Gryffindor seeker - but is beaten off by Sloper. He's certainly settling in well - I do believe this is his first year on the team. Oh! - are those Nargles in his hair?"

Professor McGonagall, looking slightly miffed as Luna's commentary drifted towards magical creatures and rain, coughed loudly.

"Erm - Luna - "

"Yes? Oh, right professor." She focused her gaze back to the game. "Slytherin has possession of the quaffle now and are racing towards the Gryffindor goalposts - Ron Weasley is in position. Quite a nice keeper he is, too."

"Get 'em, Ron!" Harry hollered from his spot high above the pitch. Ginny, sweeping in below the Slytherin chaser, caught the ball as Ron batted it away with the tail-end of his broom. Slytherins groaned and cheers erupted from the Gryffindor side.

"Gryffindor keeper saves the ball and his sister catches it - is tossed to Katie Bell followed closely by Demelza. Score is still 80 - 50, Gryffindor."

A sudden clap of thunder was heard right above the stadium - lightning flashed less than a second afterward. As players, distracted by the light, looked up, a bludger hurtled towards the small figure above the stands and struck with a distinctive wet _thwack._

"Harry!" Ginny cried.

"It seems that the Gryffindor seeker has been hit by a bludger - oh dear." Her last sentence was drowned out by the uproar from Gryffindor stands. Madame Hooch, who had been watching the game with hawk-like efficiency, immediately whipped out her wand and cast a hovering charm on the falling seeker, levitating him slowly to the ground.

"Timeout!" Madame Hooch called as Harry's body reached the ground. He was mumbling incoherently, twisting and thrashing. Every single player on both sides frowned in confusion - usually, the referee didn't call timeouts. The Gryffindor team rushed to their fallen seeker's side while the Slytherins laughed and high-fived each other. Dirty glances were shot from both sides while teachers poured onto the field.

"Where's Madame Pomfrey?" Professor McGonagall demanded, looking around wildly. "Teachers aren't supposed to heal students on the field unless it's life threatening - "

"She's had a bad case of flu," Professor Sprout supplied. "Caught it from one of the students she was treating, the poor dear. She's still in bed." Hearing this, Professor McGonagall paled.

"Surely Professor Dumbledore could make an exception this time - " It was Demelza who spoke then, wringing her hands nervously.

"I suppose you've got to forfeit, now," Draco drawled, approaching the bedraggled Gryffindor team. "A real pity your seeker is indisposed, though - I was really looking forward to catching the snitch before him." Ron, giving a bellow of rage, had to be restrained by Katie and Jack as he attempted a charge at the Slytherin seeker.

So no one noticed Ginny sidling up to Harry's prone form until it was too late.

Draco's eyes widened comically. "Wait, what - " Ginny tapped his arm once and then his head, muttering a few spells under her breath. Dropping her wand arm and deftly dodging multiple members of the teaching staff and Slytherin team, she smiled brightly through the raindrops.

"I do believe you'll find our seeker able to play," she said cheerfully, sliding her wand back into her sleeve. "Maybe you didn't quite look close enough? - " Snape's eyes narrowed and his mouth opened, but before he could say anything, McGonagall interrupted.

"Well, if that's all?" She stared challengingly at the rest of the teachers, who all shook their heads mutely. "Good." She turned her gaze to Ginny, her expression softening a fraction, before helping Harry up and onto his broom. "Feeling up to a victory today, Potter?" Harry, who was now grinning, nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Professor." He mounted his broom, and as Madame Hooch prepared to blow the whistle again, Draco narrowed his eyes at the youngest Gryffindor chaser.

"Just you wait," he murmured as he brushed past her, lips barely moving. She had gotten away with it this time. But eventually, she'd have to forfeit.


	48. Worry

**A/N:** Next one….

*hides and ignores the fact that it's been about four months.*

Whoops…..

 **Prompt #48:** 12/27/17

 _689 words, according to Google Docs._

* * *

 _I have entirely TOO much to worry about,_ Ginny thought frantically as she dashed to Transfiguration, struggling to pull a Christmas sweater over her head.

"Whoops!" She let out a whoosh of air and staggered backward as she collided with a very solid, very firm person. "So sorry - gotta run!" she tossed over her shoulder as she swept up her bag and continued her mad race to the classroom. "I'm really sorry!"

 _She didn't even notice that she had run into her boyfriend,_ Draco thought, a tad petulantly. But he resisted the urge to call after her - she looked like she had enough on her mind as it was.

* * *

"I _can't_ believe I got another detention from McGonagall!" Ginny was complaining to Pansy as they trundled inside, brushing snow from their jackets from the greenhouses. "Honestly - I was only thirty seconds late!" Pansy smirked.

"I'm sure she'll have you do something easy - like mopping the Great Hall or helping Filch for a few hours." Ginny swatted her, but couldn't help a giggle escape her lips.

"Sure - and that'll be just wonderful." The two friends continued their friendly bantering indoors, but at the sight of Snape's swirling robe around a corner Ginny paled and slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Careful - you might just lose all your remaining brain cells doing that," Pansy teased, but raised an eyebrow as Ginny rushed off in the direction of the Gryffindor common rooms.

"Sorry!" she shrieked over her shoulder. "I just remembered I have to finish a potions essay for after lunch!" Pansy sighed and shook her head, shooting a rare, affectionate glance at the redhead's fast-retreating form.

"What will we do with you, Weasley?"

* * *

Ginny frantically put quill to paper in a frenzy of stray feathers and ink as she fought against the clock to finish her essay. "Acromantula Venom is very rare and must be harvested from an acromantula soon after its death." She bit the tip of her quill, tapping her foot impatiently. "But what's it used for?" she asked herself angrily.

"You know, Gin, talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

"I don't need your cheek right now, Ronald!" she snapped, not bothering to look up from her very short essay. Ron grinned easily at her, holding up two hands in surrender.

"Ginny's in the I'm-the-queen-of-all-of-Gryffindor-and-can't-be-bothered-to-say-hi-to-her-own-brother mood right now!" he called in warning to Harry and Hermione, who were currently studying together on the couch.

"You'd do well to stop bothering her and get back to your own essay, Ron," Hermione reprimanded. Ginny, who had learned to tune out their bickering by now, ignored them. Over the next half-hour, she furiously wrote seven more inches.

"There!" she exclaimed triumphantly, throwing down her quill at last. "Done!" Glancing around, she was bemused to find that the common room was empty. "Where did everyone go - RONALD!" Her last exclamation was punctuated by a crash as she rushed out the portrait hole, hair flying in a furious tangle of red. "What is it with people not telling me when lunch is?" she muttered irately as she fought against the wave of students traveling in the opposite direction. "I swear, Ron, you are going to get it when I find you." Her stomach rumbled, yet another reminder of the lunch she had missed.

Before she could reach the Great Hall, however, she found her way barricaded by a tall person with a green tie and prefect's badge - "Draco," she groaned, attempting to side-step him, "I really don't have time for this right now."

"Not even time for your own boyfriend?" he asked, effectively stopping her half-hearted efforts.

"Well - "

"Gin, relax." He pulled her to the side, out of the way of students exiting the hall. "We have a free block next - we can go down to the kitchens to get something to eat." A silence greeted this proposal. Draco frowned. "Ginny?"

"You mean we don't have potions today?" she asked, suspicion dawning as her boyfriend nodded quizzically. "PANSY! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" Draco sighed, watching Ginny dash off once more in search of Pansy. Some things just never changed.


End file.
